Too Young
by CaptainoftheGreenRiders
Summary: It is now almost 20 years since Alice was forced to abandon Springwood. But The Dream Master wouldn't leave the town unprotected. Her gift: a lone warrior to fight Freddy.
1. Hell's Reach

**Too Young **

**Summary: **It is nowalmost 20 years since Alice was forced to flee Springwood. But The Dream Master wouldn't leave the town completely unprotected. Her gift: a lone warrior to fight Freddy. (Kinda a Buffy scenario)

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I do not own Freddy, or any of the other Nightmare on Elm Street characters. **But I do own my characters, and if I see anyone using them, I will get more than a little pissed. **This story is not for profit and at no time has money exchanged hands while working on this. This was written solely for the purpose of fun. This disclaimer will apply for all ensuing chapters of this story (so I don't have to keep repeating myself).

**Rating: **PG-13 for violence and language. I will try to stay away from R ratings, but it may be necessary later on.

Please, I welcome reviews. Tell me what you think. It may be a bit confusing at first, but everything well be explained in later chapters.

**Prologue **Summer, 1990… 

_The moon was full, casting silver moonbeams down onto the sleeping world. The night was still, peaceful even, for no living creature stirred as a single robed figure made her way carefully down a steep hillside._

_As the woman reached the bottom, she carefully began to weave around numerous tombstones, making sure no grave was stepped on. The figure sliced through fog, making it move and curl like water tides as the robed one hurried on._

_Spotting a faint light in the distance, the woman changed course, and moved to intercept the glow. As she drew closer, the figure was able to somewhat see through the hazy fog. Being anxious to reach her destination, she quickened her pace. _

_The woman came to a stop in front of a sacred circle created by white stones. In the middle of the circle, a small fire blazed, revealing the source of the light. In a circle around the fire, laid several native looking objects: a white buffalo skin, an intricate dream catcher, and an eagle feather were just some of the things she recognized. There was also something else around the strange scene; sitting on the ground, on the outside of the circle sat another robed figure._

"_Are you ready to begin?" asked this new figure, in a clearly feminine voice._

'_Ready' was not exactly how the standing woman would choose to describe herself. Terrified maybe. Petrified was more like it. What the two were about to do had not been done for hundreds of years. They were about to awaken an ancient and powerful magic, and though the two had spoken about this ritual before, she was still not sure if this was the right choice._

You have to do this, _came an inner voice. _You know it is the right choice, the only choice._ She knew the voice was right. It was the only way to combat _him. _She also knew it was the only way her son would survive, the only way her family and friends would survive, the only way _she _would survive. _

_With a determined nod to her companion, She sat on the ground, directly across from the other figure._

"_Then let the ritual begin," The other robed figure drew back the hood that had been covering her face. _

_Following Yvonne's lead, Alice Johnson removed her hood, and like Yvonne, held her hands up to the sky. The ritual had begun._

**Chapter 1: Hell's Reach**

She landed hard on the cold metal catwalk, her knees absorbing the violent repercussions from the 20-foot drop. The air was hot, and reeked of the coppery sent of blood. Huge plums of steam gushed out of rusted pipes and floated about at chest-level, making visibility difficult.

_Damnit, where is he?_ She scanned the walk around her and seeing nothing, scooted closer to the railing. Making sure she had a firm grip on the old metal, she stuck her head in-between the rails and peered over them to the level underneath her. _Why can't I feel him?_ She knew he was close; the air seemed to grow staler when he was around, like an old musty house that needed airing out.

"Please, God!"

The scream jolted through her like lightening. How she had let him get that far ahead of her, she had no idea. With a spring similar to a cheetah's, Natasha Anderson leapt up from her hunched position and sprinted through the maze of metal spider-webs toward the direction of the yell.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­...

Stacie couldn't get away. Everywhere she turned, every tunnel she went through, he was there. He seemed to know exactly where she was at all times, like he was some kind of devil. He was always there, always scraping his claws, intimidating her.

Turning down a new passageway, Stacie cautiously walked forward. The air was misty over here, like a gray, cloudy day that couldn't seem to make up its mind if it wanted to rain or not. Hearing a scratch behind her, Stacie spun around, fully expecting to see the horribly burnt figure of her tormenter. She wasn't disappointed to see that he was nowhere to be around. But still, she felt a need to be weary, and silently as a ghost, she began to creep backwards, keeping her eyes glued to the area where the sound had originated.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her from behind. She didn't have to look to know it was _him_. She screamed and tired to jerk her way free, but it was too late. His left arm gripped her tightly around the waist, while his right, the one with the claws, hovered inches from her face, the claws twitching, making an evil symphony of creaks.

"Please, God!" she screamed, desperate for help.

He laughed then, not his usual load guffaw, but a low, sinister almost lustful laugh. The claws came up towards her neck and began to stroke the milky white skin, playfully tickling her.

"No one can help you now, not even God," came his gruff voice. The claws, bored with Stacie's neck, inched their way down the front of her nightgown, making the fabric crease as the blades went down into the crevice between her breasts. "Don't worry my dear, this is going to hurt a lot."

The claws quit stroking the two bulges of her breasts and went further down directly in front of her stomach. The tips of the razors began to press in, very slowly. Stacie began to feel four separate points of pain as the blades pierced the outer-most layer of skin. She screamed both from panic and pain. She wasn't ready to die; she was too young. Stacie struggled even harder than before, but gave up quickly as she discovered that the struggling made the pain far worse.

"NO!" Stacie screamed again, "PLEASE, SOMEBODY!"

He laughed again; a gleeful, delighted roar. He was taking great pleasure at her pain. Stacie cringed at the thought of his laugh being the last thing she would ever hear in this world. She closed her eyes against the blinding pain that was making her vision blur. _This is it, _she thought. _I'm his._

Without warning, she suddenly found herself flat against the metal-grated floor. Her attacker no longer had his claws in her stomach, but pain was still searing through her body, as if some sort of poison had been injected into her through the razors. Confused as to what had happened and why he hadn't killed her yet, Stacie slowly rolled over, and gasped as to what she saw.

Her assailant, in the middle of picking himself off of the floor, glared at her with the most murderous gleam in his eyes Stacie could ever imagine. He was furious; his mouth snarled and his nose flared. If it were possible, he looked more like a demon than he had just minutes ago.

"Little late," he snarled, "Natasha."

Before Stacie could ask herself why he had just addressed her as Natasha, someone stepped around her and placed themselves between her and the enraged demon.

"More like just in time," came a female voice from the stranger. "Back off, Freddy."

"You back off, bitch. She's already half dead. You failed…again." he spat, finishing off with a crack from his claws.

Stacie watched as the stranger crouched down beside her, all the while keeping her eyes on the man she had called 'Freddy'. Natasha placed her hand over Stacie's eyes, and then she was gone, vanished.

Freddy watched as his prey disappeared from the dream world. It wasn't the first time one of his children had been taken away from him by this girl, but Freddy was going to make sure it would be the last.

With his quarry gone, Freddy tilted his head and took a menacing step forward. "You are becoming most annoying. I grow tired of dealing with you, Natasha Anderson."

"You could always quit," she said flatly.

Suddenly, Freddy let loose with a hysterical laugh. He doubled over with uncontrollable giggles, and his guffaw resounded off the metal walls like some explosion.

Confused and a bit irked, Natasha stared. "What's so funny?" she asked haughtily.

"What, and go back to hell…permanently?" he questioned when he had gained enough control of himself to answer her. "And leave you with nothing to do? No, I don't think I could rest peacefully knowing that you and all the other damned heathens were breeding yet another generation of repulsive, empty-minded brats."

"Sooner or later, you will have no choice but to go back to hell," Natasha countered.

"I believe it's later for me, and sooner for you, Natty," Freddy warned.

In horror, Natasha felt the weight of Freddy's aura rush in on her, attempting to smother the life out of her body with demonic, white-hot rage. She couldn't breath, and she knew it wouldn't be long before he had accomplished his goal.

Putting all of her concentration in defending herself, Natasha gathered all of her aura's energy in her chest, letting the native eagle spirit gather strength as her heart pumped faster and faster, weaving goodness and light into her power. She was putting none of her energy into warding off his power, and soon her vision began to be overcome by blackness. Not blackness caused by losing consciousness, but blackness thick with the stench of decay and the feel of Satan. Hell was reaching for her…it was no or never.

With all the strength that had been given to her, Natasha drove her aura, the untamed spirit of the eagle, out of her heart and down thorough her arms, watching as it left her body and shot out to Freddy.

The rush of energy hit its mark, and being no match against the pure, white power, Freddy was thrown backwards, hitting the steel catwalk hard on landing.

Feeling his power let go of her, Natasha slumped against the catwalks railing, trying to regain strength. Freddy's black power may have let go of her, but she could still feel the black nothingness sticking to her, leaving an ugly residue on her soul. It had not been the first time he had attempted to overcome her white power by his hellish black energy. Each time his aura had entered her soul, a tiny part of him had been left to attempt to pollute her soul. Natasha had no illusions about her vulnerability to him; she could feel him growing inside her with each passing night. It had been six months, almost to the day, that she had been chosen to be Freddy's Keeper, and she was beginning to feel, with ever increasing horror, that her time was coming to an end.

Still leaning against the railing, Natasha watched warily as Freddy sprang up from the catwalk. Her aura had done its job of stopping Freddy's attack, but it had worn off quickly, and now Freddy was furious. He half-crouched, and slowly began to circle her, looking for his adversary's weak spot, looking for an opening into her defenses. She prayed to God that he didn't sense that she had nothing left in her. If Freddy chose to attempt to attack her again, whether it was by trying to smother her with his aura, or a physical attack, Natasha knew she would have no defense. She was spent.

As suddenly as he had begun, Freddy stopped circling. He stared hard into her eyes, and she stared hard back. Slowly and wickedly, Freddy smiled, revealing his jagged, shark-like teeth. _Shit; _she saw immediately that he knew.

"You can't possibly think that you can trick me, do you Natasha?" he snarled. "Remember, we are one in the same."

Without waiting for an answer, Freddy charged her, springing faster than she had ever seen him move before. There was no time to put up a counter move. Natasha watched, as the world around her seemed to move in slow motion. She watched as Freddy's claws rose, and aimed directly at her eyes.

There was nowhere to go, nothing she could do. The effort of combating his aura had drained her of any power she could now use to meet his attack and fight him off. There was only one solution she could think of; she knew it was suicidal.

Closing her eyes, she said a silent prayer, and launched herself over the catwalks railing, falling like a lead weight into the black depths of Freddy's dream world.


	2. Mistrust

Long chapter, prepare yourselves…

**Too Young**

**Chapter 2: Mistrust**

Down she fell, like a lead weight dropping into a bottomless pit; a bottomless pit from Hell. Glancing up, Natasha could see the catwalk and the haunting mirage of the power plant getting farther and farther away from her, until finally it disappeared completely. She could imagine Freddy standing at the edge of the railing, looking over it and snarling as his prey slipped through his claws. But this was his world, and she knew he wasn't done with her.

From below, from the black depths of Hell, Natasha could hear screams of agony. So filled with pain and anguish, they hardly sounded human at all. The air began to grow hot. The heat had a smell to it; a smell Natasha could only guess was burning flesh. A glow like that created by fire, moving and alive, began to illuminate her surroundings. She thought she had been falling through nothing, with nothing around her. Now, Natasha could see the air she breathed was not air at all, but some kind of gray smog, and surrounding her on all sides, as if she fell through a well, were rocky walls.

The wall was close, and hoping she could stop her descent, Natasha reached out with both arms and legs, digging her fingers into the jagged rocky surface. She cried out in pain as the sharp, knife-like covering ripped out her nails, and tore into the soft flesh of her fingertips. Emanating from all around her, Natasha could her Freddy Krueger's wicked laugh as he observed her fighting for her life.

Refusing to give him the satisfaction of watching her die, Natasha dug in harder, ignoring the blinding pain her hands were causing her, and bit her lip to keep from crying out. It was working! She was slowing down! Another hundred or so feet and she would be stopped.

Suddenly, the texture of the wall changed. She screamed and jerked her hands free as the rocky surface transformed itself into human flesh. Repulsed, she looked at her hands, seeing her own blood and tissue mixed in with the foreign physical matter.

"NATASHA!"

Recognizing the voice, Natasha looked back up at the wall. Her eyes widened in horror as her heart leapt up to her throat. There, her body melted and molded into the fleshy surface of the tunnel, was her mother.

"MOM!" she screamed, panicking as she saw her mother's flesh ooze off of her bones, and drip down the hot, tissued wall.

"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE, YOU LITTLE BITCH!" the fleshless skull of her mother spat at her.

Speechless, Natasha could only stare at her mother's burning and charred remains, too shocked to do anything. But she didn't have to stare long, for she had built up enough momentum that she was falling again.

"HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE, HELP ME!"

Suddenly, invisible hands wrapped around her torso. She struggled, sure it was Freddy. To her surprise, the grip loosened, and gently began to rock her back and forth.

"NATASHA!"

Hearing her mother's voice again, Natasha felt rage building within her. "FREDDY YOU BASTARD! LEAVE HER ALONE!"

"NATASHA, IT'S OKAY!"

Natasha began to feel a funny sensation come over her body. It felt as if her body was being pulled, ripped from this grisly scene. She closed her eyes, as the world around her swam.

…

"NATTY, IT'S OKAY!" her mother cried, terrified at the sight of her daughter's tantrum.

"NNOO!" Natasha let off one more anguished cry before her eyes flew open, wide and rolling, inspecting the room for any signs of threats.

"Natty, you all right?" her mother asked in concern. Diane could see that her daughter was very distraught. On the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Natasha took a couple of seconds to catch her breath. _I'm okay. For one more night, I'm safe._ "I'm fine, mom." She glanced down at her hands, the memory of what happened in her dream still clinging to her thoughts. She wasn't surprised when she saw that all of her fingernails had been ripped off, and they were bleeding badly. Quickly, so her mother wouldn't notice, Natasha grabbed two handfuls of sheets, wrapped them around her hands to stop the bleeding and hid them under the covers. She prayed that the blood wouldn't seep through.

When she glanced back up to her mother, Natasha could see she didn't believe her. "Really mom, I'm alright. I just had a dream, that's all," Natasha assured, hopping her voice didn't betray the panic she still felt from the dream.

Suddenly, her mother's demeanor shifted from compassion to anger. Diane knew what was truly wrong with her daughter, and she couldn't believe it. Natasha had regressed. Again.

"You've been taking drugs again, haven't you?"

Not waiting for an answer, Diane jerked herself up from the bed and began pacing the room. "You will not jeopardize your chance of going to Harvard. Natasha, you received a full ride scholarship! I will not have you killing yourself under my roof. If you want to kill yourself, do it in college!"

Diane headed for the door, but before she had stepped out, she turned and faced her daughter once more. "By the way, who's Freddy?"

Natasha met her mothers glare, and for the thousandth time, wished like hell she could cry on her mother's shoulder, spilling all that had happened to her over the past six months. She wished she could confess that in that time, she had failed nearly a dozen children. She had let Freddy Krueger take their lives. She wished she could tell her mother that Freddy was the reason she had taken drugs, trying to pollute her body enough that she wouldn't have to have the Keepers responsibility. She wished she could tell her mother that it was Freddy who had taken the life of her baby sister, Irene, not SIDS as her parents believed.

But she couldn't. It was useless. Adults never believed the children.

"Nobody," whispered Natasha.

With a slam of the door, her mother left the room.

…

The light-hearted jungle type music erupted from the Lion King alarm clock at precisely seven a.m. With a heavy sigh, Libby Morgan rolled onto her side, and tiredly hit the alarms snooze button. It was a Thursday, the worst day of the week in her eyes. She knew that all day long she would think of nothing but what she would do Friday afternoon, and the following two days. The answer to that was of course nothing. She could think of nothing so good as spending the whole weekend in her house and safely behind closed doors, watching movies, and listening to music; an escape from her reality.

With the same jolly music, the alarm again blared to life. _Has it really been five minutes?_ She again rolled over and hit the alarm, but this time, hit the turn-off button. Not allowing herself another chance of drifting off to sleep, Libby hastily threw off her covers, and made her way over to her dresser. Rummaging through the tangled mass of clothes, she finally found a set that matched, dressed, and headed for the bathroom.

After a quick shower, Libby set out to the kitchen. She smelled pancakes, her favorite breakfast, and she knew her mother had fixed them for a reason. Times had been difficult, and her mother was attempting to make up for it.

"Glad to see you awake," her mother, a beautiful thirty-five year old brunette said from her position by the stove.

Libby got out plates and silver ware for the both of them and sat down at the table. She watched in silence as her mother finished her cooking and served the hot blueberry pancakes onto the plates.

"So, you're about ready to finish your first week at your new school. How you like it?" her mother questioned in an attempt to break the awkward silence. It was a sound she had become used to in the last year, but she was never surprised by how loud the silence could be. It was almost deafening.

"It's alright," Libby mumbled, slightly annoyed that her mother had once again asked the same question she had already asked a dozen or so times this week. "The teachers are nice, but I can tell that they are careful with me."

"Careful? What do you mean by that?"

"You know…treating me with kid gloves. I can tell that they're afraid to pair me with…certain…people…in-groups. You know, stuff like that," Libby continued eating the pancakes, hopping her mother would drop the issue.

Sophie turned to glance out the small window above the sink. Outside, she could see the small, quaint town of Springwood, Ohio coming to life. Lawn sprinklers were jarring into action; paper boys were throwing the daily paper into peoples yards, not even trying to reach the porch; important looking business men dressed in their fancy hundred dollar suites climbed into cars, ready to make the long trip to the nearby city for a long days work. This was the town Sophie knew Libby needed to be. Springwood was a place where one could sit back, relax, and watch the world pass them by. With time, Sophie knew her daughter would get better.

"Well," Sophie began, not sure how to comfort her daughter without putting her words too bluntly. "I'm sure they'll relax after a bit. You just have to show them that you can handle anything they would throw at you."

Seeing that Libby was finished with her breakfast, Sophie stood and took their plates over to the sink. "You best be getting ready, Sweetie. School starts in a half-hour. Call to me when you're ready for me to drive you."

…

Twenty minutes later, the Morgan's gold 1999 Chevrolet Silverodo pulled up alongside the old, antique structure of the Springwood High School. Teenagers were busily hustling about, meeting with friends and exchanging notes before a full day of classes would begin. No one paid attention as Libby awkwardly got out of the truck, and fixed her bookbag into a more comfortable position on her back.

"Hey, Libby!"

Both Libby and her mother glanced in the direction of the yell. A girl Libby's age and dressed in loose fitting clothes enthusiastically waved in Libby's direction. Smiling sheepishly, Libby gave a small wave in return before turning her back and once again, facing her mother.

"Isn't that the Hamilton's daughter? Our neighbors?" asked Sophie. The Hamilons were an odd bunch who kept to themselves. Sophie had only seen the family a couple of times in the last week they had been in Springwood.

"Yeah," answered Libby. "Her names Suzie. I met her the first day."

"You never told me. You can invite her over to our house sometime if you want," offered her mother. She needed to get Libby hanging out with friends her own age again. She hopped this Suzie could be one who would get Libby opened up again.

"Sure," said Libby flatly before turning from the truck.

"Liberty," came her mothers' voice. Whatever her mother wanted, Libby knew it must be serious, for serious matters was the only time Sophie used her real name. "You have counseling after school today. Don't forget." She leaned close, softening her features, "it would really please the doctor if she knew you were making friends."

Libby slowly nodded her understanding. Her doctors had been trying to convince her for quite some time that friends, especially female friends of her own age, would do wonders for her psyche. Libby didn't necessary want friends. She liked being alone. When she was alone, nobody could judge her, nobody could hurt her. But possibly, if she at l east acted like she had made friends, maybe they would all back off, and leave her alone. She made a mental note to at least find out a little about Suzie, so she could sound like she knew her.

Her mother smiled sweetly, "Have a good day, darling." Sophie put the truck in drive, and pulled away from the curb.

Libby stood and watched her mother drive away until the truck was no longer visible. Libby let out a long, deep sigh, wishing she could be home, and not with hundreds of strangers crowded into the same building like cattle.

She turned, thinking that she should get to her first class, when she suddenly collided with another student. Books and papers flew everywhere. The two girls landed in a heap on the ground.

"Little bitch, watch where you're going!" cried the older girl, not even bothering to see if Libby was all right. People were beginning to stare, and some rude kids even began to call at Libby, making fun of her for running into one of their own.

"I'm sorry. Can I help…"

"NO! Just leave me alone!" screamed the girl. Having gathered her books, she jumped up and stormed off.

Libby just sat on the sidewalk and stared dumbly after her. "No, no, don't worry about me. I'm just fine," she mumbled under her breath. Libby began to gather her bookbag and the few papers she had been carrying by hand. She hopped that the girl had not taken any of her notes.

Libby stopped short. There, on the pavement, were two bloody handprints.

Realizing it was obviously the girls' blood, Libby turned in the direction the girl had sped off to. Wherever she had been heading, she was nowhere to be seen.

"You alright?"

Libby froze. It was a man's voice that had spoken, and Libby reluctantly looked up, meeting his gaze with hesitance.

He was in his mid-to-late forties, Libby guessed, and was dressed in a gray suit. He had big, kind eyes, and a smile that Libby found oddly comforting. The man offered his hand to help Libby up.

Libby could do nothing but just stare, wide-eyed at the mans outstretched hand. She knew he just wanted to help, but she felt that all-to familiar feeling of fear and helplessness come over her. Not saying a word, Libby refused the mans hand, hastily stood, and not giving the man another look, sped off in the direction of the school's main entrance.

…

_How dare that little runt, _thought Natasha as she hurriedly weaved around all the other underclassman standing outside the school. Running into that girl had re-opened the wounds on her hands. She had bandaged them, but it hadn't taken long for the blood to seep through. She would have to stop in a bathroom before her first class, and re-bandage her fingers.

"What's up, Natty!" she heard a girl call out from her left.

Glancing over, Natasha saw her best friend, Brittany Mendon, standing under one of the schools huge maple trees, talking with more of her friends. She couldn't talk long, but she figured they would think it odd of her to just keep walking, so she changed course to meet them. As she approached she carefully hid her hands so her friends couldn't see the blood.

"So, you ready for the senior meeting this morning?" asked Brittany.

"Senior meeting? What senior meeting?"

"You know the one right after the bell, before first class? Jeez, where have you been lately? You always seem gone."

"Speaking of 'gone', did anybody hear what happened to Stacie O'Neal last night?" piped Jordan Adams, Brittany's boyfriend.

The surrounding crowd leaned in, not wanting to miss any bit of the latest gossip. Everyone save Natasha. She knew all-to well what had happened to her, and she wasn't entirely happy that she had to relive the experience again. But to blend in with the crowd, Natasha also paid full attention to Jordan, pretending to be extremely interested.

"She was nearly gutted last night. Her parents found her in a heap on the floor of her bedroom this morning. She had four deep cuts on her stomach. They think it might be self-inflected."

There was a rush of "Ohs" and "Whoa's" from the crowd as the thought of one of their own class members attempting suicide.

Natasha couldn't stand it; she didn't understand why people couldn't see what was right in front of their eyes. _You idiots, _she wanted to scream, _Stacie didn't try suicide! It was Freddy!_

Natasha turned on her heal, and ran for the nearest entrance, leaving her friends gaping after her.

All right now, that's the end of Ch. 2. The next chapter is where it really takes off, I promise.

I want to thank the couple of readers' who have left me reviews, and I ask that more people leave me reviews. It really helps me in my writing to know what people think.

Also, does anyone out there know what the title of Springwood's newspaper is? The only movie I see it in is Nightmare 6; it appears when Maggie is walking in the rain and the newspaper has on it "Nine, Ten, Never Sleep Again" in big, bold letters. I can see at the top it says The Springwood , but I can't make the last word out. It is in Chapter 17 on the DVD if anyone wants to check it out. If you know what it is, please tell me.


	3. Fallen Eagle

All right now, I know its been a long time since the last update, but as I informed you, our computers internet got zapped. The problem is still not completely fixed; the families' computer's internet works, but my computer, a dell, has to get sent in to be worked on. But the good news is that I can update.

In response to Darkness Takes Over's question, this story is set in the present, 2006; although you have to reel back in time a bit, because this is supposed to take place in the last couple of months of school, which would be in April or so. Other than that, takes place in the present time. I hope to make this a series of stories, which will be set in the future. As I continue the series, I will be creating an _alternate_ world, which of course, will make more sense if the story is set in the "it could happen" atmosphere of the future.

Thank you Stayhooper, for your generous review. In answer to your questions, yes we will be seeing some past Nightmare characters, though many of them will be cameos. I'm glad you like Natasha, but don't get _too_ attached to her. I better not say any more on that subject, for I will give things away.

One more thing, if you please, and then I will shut up and let you get to reading. As you may have noticed, I tend to jabber a lot. And you will see that this chapter is _really_ long. I apologize for this. I had a huge brain fart (also called writer's block) in the middle of writing this chapter, and so I practiced what my writing teachers always tell me to do when brain farts happen: keep on writing! Write whatever comes to mind, even if it doesn't make sense or flow well. I tried to go back and refine and edit the chapter a bit when I had recovered from the brain fart, but some things I could not change, unless of course, I wanted to rewrite the whole thing. _Not!_

Okay, I'll shut up now…more of that jabbering thing again. Sorry…

**Too Young**

**Chapter 3: Fallen Eagle**

The final bell of the day rang sharp and jarring, resounding off the schools white, tiled walls. Students gushed out of every classroom and scrambled down the long, colorless corridors to the nearest of the numerous exits that led to the outside world.

Neil smiled to himself as the stampeding herd of teenagers trampled past the wide glass windows of Springwood High School's main office. He remembered when he was that young; when he was wild, carefree, and lived for parties. It seemed like so long ago, though really, in the grand scheme of things, not so long.

"You have excellent qualifications Mr. Gordon," declared Dean Stackhouse, the principal of the school. "So, you sat in on the class you are scheduled to take over," Stackhouse broke from the conversation to look at the papers laying on the front of his desk, "Psychology and a World History course. Please tell me, do you have any questions as to the procedures or grading scale our school offers? Any questions as to how the classes are to be run?"

Neil Gordon studied his interviewer, and if he got the job, his future boss. Stackhouse conducted himself with an arrogant air that didn't settle well on Neil's shoulders. It seemed to Neil that Stackhouse ran the Springwood High School like an Army camp: and he was the Drill Sergeant. He expected people to jump to his every command, and he never expected to repeat himself.

Frankly, Neil didn't care. He was here for one reason, and one reason alone; to live out the remaining couple years of his working life in relative peace. One might think that standing in a closed in space with a bunch of hormone driven teens would be anything but peaceful. But with the military air in which Stackhouse ruled this institution of education, Neil assumed the students would behave rather mannerly: they're to afraid to do anything other than behave.

"No Mr. Stackhouse, I don't have any questions," Neil answered in faked kindness. Neil may have to work for Stackhouse, but he didn't have to like him. "The current teacher stand-in, Ms. Robinson, did an excellent job of informing me to all of the fine points to how the school runs. I don't believe that I will have any problems."

"Very well then," Stackhouse announced as he slammed shut the final in front of him; Neil's file. "You will start tomorrow then, and that will allow the very kind Ms. Robinson to get back to her normal job around here. I thank you for considering Springwood High as your next place of employment."

Principal Stackhouse stood and offered his hand for Neil to shake, clearly wanting the interview to be over. Neil obediently stood and took the offered hand, granting Stackhouse's wish and ending the interview. With no more to be said, Neil turned to leave.

"One more thing if you please, Mr. Gordon."

Stopping just short of the door, Neil again faced his boss. The day had been long and hard, and tomorrow would be even harder. He wanted to go home and get some rest. But Stackhouse was his employer now, and Neil had to appease him.

"With your work history, I can't help but wonder why you didn't attempt to find a position in the nearby Westin Hills Counseling. You worked there once before when the facility was a psychiatry institution. Why not follow up, find employment there?" Stackhouse's eyes were questioning, almost suspicious.

Neil hesitated, not knowing how to respond, or even if he should. He had been surprised when this issue had not come up in his initial interview, but not disappointed. Neil would be quite happy if he would never again have to hear of Westin Hills or his former employment there. But the truth of the matter was, however, he would never escape it. There wasn't a day, a night that passed by that he didn't think of his time there. He was haunted by it, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Neil slowly raised his eyes to meet with Stackhouse's. "I'm not a doctor anymore, Sir."

Not wanting the topic to go any farther, Neil opened the door and left the office.

…

Libby Morgan crossed the final street to her destination, climbed the stone staircase, and opened the huge walnut doors that led into the Westin Hills Counseling facility. As the doors closed behind her, the sun filtered through the intricate Victorian style stained glass windows to spread beautiful rainbow-like colors onto matching Victorian floor rugs.

She continued down the long stone corridor, glancing curiously at the numerous marble busts sitting on delicate looking wood tables with lion's-claws feet, and the medieval designed tapestries hanging from the walls. Since its renovation a couple a years ago, Westin Hills had been redesigned to look somewhat like a castle. It was a design that many felt unsettling, for the ancient décor gave the one the feeling of being buried in time.

Libby liked the design. She couldn't exactly put her finger on why she liked it so, but it made her feel good. She supposed that it was the feeling of isolation that the ancient surroundings imposed on her, a feeling that nobody could see her. And of course, it didn't hurt that she liked history.

As she came to the end of the corridor, Libby was greeted by a comfortable sized waiting room. Thick burgundy colored curtains were tied back, allowing the evening sun to stream through the crystal clear glass and light the room with a warm hearted and welcoming aura. Libby was about to sit in one of the plush waiting chairs situated around the circumference of the room, when the receptionist called to her.

"Liberty Morgan, the doctor will see you now."

Libby nodded her understanding to the girl, and started down the adjacent corridor in the direction of her counselor's office. She knew the way well enough; she had been here to see Dr. Yin twice before since she and her mother had moved to Springwood nearly a week before.

Libby didn't even have to knock once she had reached the door for Dr. Yin called to her to open it. Once she had stepped inside and taken a seat, she waited patiently for her counselor to begin the session. She knew the routine well, for it was the same routine she went through with her old doctor in North Shire. She imagined it was the same routine that patient and doctor danced in every town, in every city and in every continent.

"So Libby, how's it going so far?" Yin started casually.

"I'm doing better, I think. I feel…more relaxed around people, I guess."

"That's good," exclaimed Yin, almost a little to enthusiastically. "And how do you feel around men?" she carefully ventured.

Libby knew that question had been coming, but it still hit a nerve. Libby lowered her eyes and stared at her hands as she began to fiddle with them. She was well aware of Yin's critical glare and she knew that Yin expected an answer. But it was hard to keep repeating the same words over and over.

"Libby?" Yin prompted.

Libby looked up to her counselor, conveying through her eyes all the things she could not bring herself to say. Nothing more was needed.

"I've kinda found a friend," Libby proposed, hoping to deflect the conversation to a topic she was a little bit more comfortable with.

"Oh?" Yin raised an eyebrow. "Please tell me about her."

"Well, her name's Suzie Hamilton and she's in my grade." Libby frankly didn't know much else about Suzie, but she hoped she could fake knowing someone. Her face fell with disappointment as she realized that Dr. Yin wanted a little more information about Suzie than what Libby was willing to give. "She's nice," Libby finished, lamely even to her own ears.

Yin pursed her lips and nodded her head. She made a small notation in the file she had in front of her, her own file Libby was sure. "I've got something I want you to see," Yin said as she finished writing and stood up from her desk. She made a motion for Libby to follow, "Please, come with me."

Libby hastily got up and followed Yin out of her office and down the corridor outside. Libby had thought that Yin was leading her to another office, and was surprised when Yin stopped outside of the women's restroom.

"What are we doing here?" asked a confused Libby.

Yin at first said nothing, only stared at Libby expectantly. When it became clear to her that Libby didn't understand her meaning, Yin prodded her, "Go on in."

Libby's eyes traveled to the restroom door and back to Yin. "Thank you, but I don't have to go."

Yin rolled her eyes and opened the door herself. "I know you don't, silly. That's not my meaning." She once again made a gesture for Libby to step inside.

Reluctantly, Libby stepped through the open door and into the pitch black room. She stood in the darkness, listening to the soft dripping emanating from a leaking sink somewhere in the black.

Without warning, Yin snapped on the light. Libby squinted her eyes from the cold brightness of the lights. When her eyes had adjusted, she knew immediately why her doctor had led her to the bathroom.

Mounted above every sink, were mirrors. Libby had no other choice but to look at her reflection. Her ashen face glared wide eyed back at her as she scrutinized her image.

An average onlooker viewing the fourteen-year old girl would have told her that she was a beautiful, well formed young lady. For as young as she was, she was mature. Her five foot five inch frame showed her womanly features well. She had an average sized bust with a slim waist. Her hips weren't tiny, but neither were they big; just about perfect. Her china-blue eyes shone brightly as light glinted off them, almost giving them a life of their own. One also would have told Libby, that her hair, shoulder length and blonde, looked close to the color of rich, sun-dried hay; wild and free in the wind. Her face was finely boned, and showed her German ancestry well.

But that wasn't what she saw.

As if reading her mind, Yin spoke up, "So, what do you see?"

Libby knew darn well that her counselor was testing her. She knew that Yin wanted to hear her say 'I see a beautiful, young, innocent girl'. But she also knew that was not what Yin expected to hear. Yin was seeing how she would respond, whether she would tell the truth, or give in to pressure.

"I know what I see," began Yin, "I see a still young, still innocent girl. Beautiful, kind, fun, respectful, and well mannered girl. But not someone who knows it. I see a girl who is afraid. Afraid of her past, afraid of the present, and afraid of what the future will bring." Yin came up to Libby and stood directly behind her, both of them looking at the reflections gazing back at them. "There is no reason for you to be afraid, Libby. Not anymore. You are not dirty, or repulsive. You are not bad, or evil. You are a normal, teenaged girl, no different from anybody else in this world."

The two were silent for a while, both letting the words sink in. When she finally spoke, Libby's voice was barely even a whisper, "That's not what I see."

"Then we have a long night ahead of us," Yin declared, keeping her voice soft, but sharply pointed.

…

Natasha ran her hands through her long, brunette hair and sighed tiredly. She was exhausted, and frustrated to boot. She had been working for three hours now, and was still no closer to finishing the report.

She took a long chug from her Coke, hoping the combination of the sugar and caffeine running through her blood would do something to awaken her. After finishing the can off, the fourth one this evening, she leaned forward and rested her elbows on the desk, re-reading for the tenth time the last paragraph she had typed, trying to figure out where to go to from here. "And so, thus ended the second Republican era in The White House," she repeated the words aloud to herself, hoping this would give her a jump start. It didn't.

She sighed in exasperation. This was the second one-nighter report that her government teacher, Mr. Hobbs, had given them this chapter. It was a practice he liked to do; make the class do an original five-paged paper over some obscure topic…in one night. The paper had to have everything included in it: a cover page, an outline page, and at least five sources. And it wasn't like she could just copy from an old library book, for he scanned each paper into The last thing she needed with one month left of her high school years was to have a plagiarism mark on her permanent record. _That would really impress Harvard._

Shrugging, she closed her eyes and typed a couple of sentences she liked to call "BS sentences". This was a practice she did when she had nothing else to say and just blabbed on about anything and everything, hence the term BS. She was rather good at it actually; her teachers made it a point to compliment her on how well formed her sentence structure was. She thought it funny too, for most of the time, she blabbed about things that had no real relevance to the subject. But if her teachers liked it, she guessed it was good enough.

She stopped her typing as she heard the front door open. "Mom! Is that you?" she called downstairs. Her mother had been working late the last couple of nights; her job being the manager at the local bank was relentless, demanding all kinds of hours. "Mom?" she called again when she heard no answer.

She smiled to herself as she realized that her BS sentences were actually making sense. _Good, now all I have to do is BS through the next three pages and I'll be home free. _She was about to plunge into the paper again when the sound of a chair scrapping across the kitchen floor brought her back into the present.

"MOM?" Natasha cringed as the clang of silverware resounded up the staircase. _What the hell is going on?_ Forgetting her half-finished report, she stretched her cramped legs and began making her way downstairs.

She had expected to see her mother sitting at the kitchen table, a half finished bottle of wine set before her, along with a bottle of aspirin for her headaches. However, when that scene failed to greet her as she rounded the corner to the kitchen, a feeling of nervous hesitation began to creep up on her normally calm composure.

What did greet her, however, was one of the strangest scenes she had ever seen. There, set in perfect style and formation, was complete dinner set for two. The dinnerware, the grandest china Natasha could imagine, held a meal fit for a king. It reminded her of her families Christmas dinner; only with more food. A rather large, overfed pig was in the middle of the table, a crimson apple wedged in between its teeth. Surrounding the pig, were several dishes of fruits and vegetables, slathered with rich-looking dressings. The outer-most ring of food was an assortment of desserts, the still hot fudge dripping on cakes and ice cream. _Okay…this is weird._

Natasha was confused; there was no way one person could have set this intricate dinner by themselves. Only a couple of minutes had passed from the moment she had first heard the door and when she had finally decided to investigate the strange noises. Something like this would have taken a while to set up, not to mention the numerous cooks needed to prepare so much food.

Suddenly, it dawned on her. She rolled her eyes in disgust; this was nothing more than her friends playing a prank on her. Wasn't it just earlier today at lunch that a couple of her friends had told her that she needed to loosen up a bit. Natasha had no doubt that this fabulous meal was her friends' idea of a funny way to get her to relax. Natasha however, didn't find it very humorous. Her mother was going to have a cow when she came home. What was she going to do with all this food?

Heading for the phone, Natasha's mind reeled with what she would say to the friends who did this. She had an idea of who it was, and she was prepared to give them a tongue lashing like they've never experienced before. She picked up the cordless phone, and punched in the numbers with agitation.

"What's wrong dear? You seem mad?"

_Mom?_ Natasha whipped around surprised by her mother's sudden appearance. She was about to apologize for the food and explain what was happening, but the words caught in her throat. She gulped, and dropped the phone, letting it impact the floor with enough force to send the batteries scattering across the white, marble surface. Natasha didn't notice.

Her mother sat at the table, her chair pushed in and swashing the wine glass she held in her hand. She was dressed in a fabulous red and green Victorian style dress, with white lace ruffles around the collar and sleeves. An enormous ruby surrounded by small, brilliantly cut diamonds shimmered from a gold chain which hung from her mother's neck. It was the most beautiful she had ever seen her mother, save for one thing; her mother's flesh was completely burned off. Her long, radiant dark brown hair had almost completely burned away, leaving only a few melted clumps of oily strings. She subdued the urge to throw up. _My God…she looks just like…NO…I can't think of him!_

"Natasha dear, why don't you sit down and eat a bit? We need to talk."

…

Neil Gordon sat reclined in his worn out Lazyboy and stared out into space. The TV blared, but Neil wasn't couldn't care less about the re-run of a Drew Carey episode. Rather, he was deep in thought, contemplating whether to continue sitting here, or go out. He was bored, and he was having trouble sleeping.

_I knew coming back to this town was a mistake;_ he chided himself for the umpteenth time this past week. Ever since he had stepped foot in Springwood, he had been haunted by a feeling that he couldn't quite describe. He felt a presence, he was sure, but he couldn't distinguish between what could be his nostalgia from what could simply be the results of an overactive imagination.

Sighing tiredly, Neil got up from his comfortable position and took the remains of his meal, a TV dinner of what the box claimed was a Salisbury steak, to the kitchen. Opening the lid to the trash can, he dumped the contents of the black tray into the already half-full container, frowning in disgust as the "gravy" smothered soybean product made a sucking noise as it left the plastic tray. _Oh well, you take what you can get, right?_

Neil walked to his back door and gazed out into the night. The sun was just beginning to set, casting elongated shadows that stretched awkwardly across the ground. He smiled as the neighbors called to their children to come in from the approaching darkness. His smile broadened as the children, deep in their heated games of baseball, protested against being made to give up their close games. _It's not like their in any danger. Not anymore,_ he reminded himself. _She had made sure of that. _

He closed his eyes as the rush of painful memories again threatened to overtake his senses. Against his own will, his mind once again traveled back to that night, so many years ago. He still, after all this time, couldn't understand why it was that she had to die. She saved the lives of countless others, yes, but at the cost of her own. _Maybe, if I had believed her sooner, Nancy would still be alive_.

Neil leaned forward and buried his head in the crook of his arm. This was the way it had been for nearly 20 years. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't erase Nancy's death, and the feeling that he was responsible from his thoughts. _And maybe, that's the way it should be. They all tried to tell me; every single one of those kids tried to tell me that something was wrong. But I just wouldn't listen._

Rearing up from his hunched position, Neil quickly made up his mind. _I've avoided that place long enough. I need to talk to her_.

Grabbing his keys off the nearby mantel, Neil hastened out the door, and before he had a chance to change his mind, got in his silver car, and revved the engine. He had waited long enough; tonight he was going to visit Nancy Thompson.

…

"Come on Natasha, sit down and eat; the food is getting cold," her mother nagged again. Diane refilled her wineglass and stared at her daughter impatiently.

Natasha stared, wide-eyed at the corpse in front of her. So life-like was the image, that Natasha could smell the acrid stench of burnt flesh from across the room. _That's all it is Natasha…an image, _she thought to herself. _My mother is fine. There's no way he can hurt her without my knowledge of it._ But still, Natasha found it hard to convince herself that the scene in front of her was fake.

"Natasha," stiffly repeated her mother, "sit down and eat."

"No thank you mom," Natasha finally responded, "I'm not hungry."

Natasha cringed as her mother clenched her teeth, making what remained of her charred lips stretch across her blackened teeth. She had said something to piss off her mother, and she knew it.

"Not hungry? Oh I see…I see I have raised quite an ungrateful little bitch!" Diane stood up, fast enough to nearly pull off the tablecloth, and began to pace back and forth. "You know, I try to be a good mother, try to raise you as best as I can and look how you repay me. You're not hungry!" She grabbed the butcher knife sitting beside the pig.

Natasha didn't know what to think. This mirage was definitely not her mother, but where was Freddy? _He has to be around here somewhere…It's not his style to be absent from his little games._

"I guess he was right about you," Diane spat at her daughter.

"Who was right about me? Over what?" She had a feeling that she already knew whom her mother was talking about, but Natasha wanted to confirm it. Besides, stalling was allowing her time to figure out what was truly going on.

"It's none of your business who," Diane raised the knife she was holding. "The only thing you have to worry about now is whether or not your ready for your final judgement."

Natasha's mouth fell open as her mother began to charge her, holding the knife aligned to her throat. Without a second thought, Natasha lounged forward, grabbed a nearby butter knife, and hurled it at her mother with all of her strength.

The knife hit its mark. Five strides from Natasha, Diane halted and teetered, looking absolutely confused as to what just happened. Slowly she reached up to her head, and gingerly let her fingers explore the knife's handle protruding from her forehead. "Natasha, that wasn't very nice."

Recovered from the initial shock of having her mother threaten her, Natasha clenched her fists and gathered herself up for a fight. _This must be one of Freddy's pawns. It should be easy enough to kill. _She began to feel her power circulating through her blood, spreading over every inch of her body. She just hoped she wouldn't have to use much of it tonight, for she was still spent from her fight with Freddy's aura the night before. Her fingers had healed well enough, but were still tinder. A pawn she could fight, but not the Dream Demon Himself.

Diane began to laugh. Natasha winced as the laugh's tone rose higher and higher, shaking the glasses on the table and sending tiny splinter-like cracks through the rooms windows. Natasha covered her ears and shut her eyes, fearing her eardrums would burst from the screeching.

Suddenly, the ear-shattering laughter stopped. The glasses and dinner ware quit shaking and once again, the room settled into a peaceful rest. Natasha uncovered her ears and opened her eyes, assessing the damage. Numerous pots and plates were upset and a few glasses had split, spilling their contents over the table.

She looked around for her mother, and spotted her in the same position she had been in before the otherworldly laugh; standing about seven feet from her. Natasha looked around her, searching for anything that she could use in her own defense. Spotting a broom, she grabbed it, broke off the end, and twirled her new weapon around her body, daring the pawn to attack.

Diane smiled; not a caring and loving smile one would expect from a mother, but one of pure evil. Natasha doubted whether the devil himself could imitate a better smile. She watched in apprehension as her mother once again reached for the knife's handle. Without hesitating, she jerked the knife free of her skull, allowing blood to spew and ripping out clumps of brain.

Natasha recoiled from the grisly scene. She had seen plenty of repulsive images in the past six months, but seeing her mother, burned and blackened and bleeding from a wound that also oozed with brains, topped it all.

It was then that her mother's body began to change. Diane's womanly figure morphed into a more stout, masculine body; her dress re-formed into a plain green and red stripped sweater; the form grew a bit taller. In a matter of seconds, Natasha was standing only feet from Freddy Krueger himself.

…

Neil Gordon drummed his fingers against the steering wheel in anxiousness as he weaved his way through the streets of Springwood. He wasn't far now; he knew his destination was only a couple more blocks.

With each rotation of the tires, Neil's apprehension grew ten fold. _Maybe this was a bad idea. I don't think I'm ready to see her again._ Shaking his head, Neil drove the thought from his mind. _I have to do this. I need to put the past behind me._ However, knowing that didn't make the task that lay before him any easier.

_I'm here._ Neil pulled his car to the side and parked along the curb. He sat there, still and unmoving for ages, hardly even allowing himself to breathe. _She'd understand if I just turned around and left, I know she would. She'd know I tried._ Neil's hand inched back up to the key, ready to turn it and get the hell out of there. As his hand inveleped the small, metal key, he closed his eyes and envisioned her face, willing Nancy to help him.

There she was, beautiful and lovely as ever. Her lush, brown hair cascaded around her shoulders; a hairstyle that perfectly framed her finely boned face. Her intense cerulean blue eyes shone as beacons in the moonlight. She smiled at him, a smile that captured his heart from the very first instant they had met.

He could have gone all night sitting there, envisioning her there, with him. But it was not to be. He could see it in her eyes; she wanted him to come to her. She wanted him to face what he had been running from for so long. She wanted him to do it now, tonight, and not wait any longer.

Shoving the car's door open, Neil stepped out, walked around the car's front, and began carefully walking down the steep slope into the Springwood cemetery.

…

The two of them stood there, sizing the other up. Each was attempting to detect any weakness from the advisory standing only feet away. Each was hoping to intimidate the other into submission. Neither one of them advancing, but neither were backing down.

Freddy broke the silence first, "I know you're weak, Keeper. Your power has been evaporating for some time now. You're getting weaker, while I'm getting stronger. It seems you just don't have what it takes to do this job."

Now it was Natasha's turn to clench her teeth, "Would you like to bet your life on that, Demon. I may surprise you yet."

"No Natasha, I think you've about run your course. The power has just about abandoned you," Freddy sneered. "You've never quite figured out how this works, have you?"

"Why don't you explain it to me then," Natasha snapped.

Freddy's voice edged sharply with mystery, "Naturally I would, but I'm afraid that a more pressing mater demands my attention…and should interest you as well."

Natasha didn't respond. She suspected that Freddy was attempting to distract her, trying to divert her attention elsewhere so he could catch her unawares. She had no intention of allowing him the pleasure of taking her by surprise. She stood her ground, concentrating solely on the dream demon standing before her.

"You see, it comes to my attention that three of your school friends have just climbed into a four-wheel drive SUV."

Natasha's eyes widened; Brittney's family had just bought an SUV. She had driven it to school the last few days, showing it off and giving rides to classmates. Springwood wasn't known for its citizens being well off, money wise at least. An SUV was a valuable edition to the town. She knew of no other friends who owned a vehicle that size.

"They got in drunk… and looking for a good time," Freddy continued, soaking in every bit of Natasha's ever growing look of desperation. "How about we give them a _very_ good time?"

"Don't you da…" Natasha didn't have a chance to finish her threat, for Freddy tauntingly waved his claws and vanished from her sight.

"Shit," Natasha muttered, realizing that Freddy had just used her to bring her friends into his dream world. She cursed herself for letting it happen; not bringing her friends into her dreams was a skill she had never mastered, and it had cost some of them their lives. She couldn't let anything happen to Brittney or any other friend this night; she wouldn't let anything happen.

Turning on her heal, Natasha ran for the nearby cabinet, dug until she had found her car keys, and sprinted out the side door and into the garage. She headed for her car, threw the door open and launched herself inside, thrusting the key hard into the ignition.

She was about to turn over the engine, when suddenly, the car completely disappeared. Without a seat to hold her weight, Natasha fell over two feet, and hit the pavement hard, sending bolts of pain shimmying up and down her spine. "Damnit," she gasped, knowing that it was Freddy who had erased her car from existence. _He was right,_ she realized in an instant of horror, _He is stronger than I am._ _He made my car disappear to make it harder for me to reach Brittney._

Not having any other choice, Natasha pushed her pain to the back of her mind, leapt up onto her feet, and began running down the street. She opened her mind and scanned the town's perimeters, searching for the location of her friends. As The Keeper, Natasha had access to many unnatural powers, one of them being able to locate anyone at any time in the dream world. This helped her in protecting individuals from Freddy, as well as aiding her to find Freddy, wherever the demon was lurking.

Before long, she had the location of Brittney and smiled in victory.Brittney was only two streets away, heading fast in Natasha's direction. She banked sharply to the right, cutting down a side street and hopping this would allow her to intercept the racing SUV a bit faster. She willed her power to carry her faster, feeling the ancient energy racing through her blood, spilling into her limbs, and pulsating through her heart. Somewhere, the vast space of her mind, she heard the scream of the eagle, and it filled her with hope. She knew that with the help of her native spirit, she would accomplish her goal and succeed in kicking Freddy's ass all the way back to hell.

After cutting through a couple more alleys, Natasha skidded to a stop in the middle of Orange Street. _This is the street, I'm sure of it. _She quieted her breathing, listening hard for the sound of an approaching vehicle. _There…it's Brittney all right._ About a hundred feet away, a dark green Ford SUV careened around a corner, and sped straight for Natasha's position.

The SUV continued its rampage down the street, gaining speed and every once in a while, jerking slightly to keep in its own lane. Natasha did nothing but stand her ground. She had no fear of the vehicle, for it was driven by a close friend. About thirty feet from Natasha, the SUV braked hard, the front bumper nearly touching the ground, and skidded loudly down the street. It slid for a good twenty feet, before finally coming to a rest, smoke radiating from beneath the tires.

The driver's side door opened, and a girl's head protruded from the bright interior. "Hey you hot foxy! What are ya doing at this time of night?" Brittney's voice strained to shout over the blaring music emanating from her fiber-glass sound system.

Natasha was already at the door, climbing onto the ledge, "MOVE OVER!" she shouted, knowing there was no time to lose.

"What! What do ya mean 'move over'?"

"Brittney, I don't have time to explain! Just move over," Natasha pushed Brittney aside, knocking her into the passenger seat, while jumping in behind the wheel. Once inside, she gagged on the heavily fermented air. She could barely breathe; the air was so intoxicating. "What have you guys been doing? Washing the car out with beer!"

"Well, what do you expect, Natty," replied Joe Orvan, another senior Natasha was friends with. "It's 'Almost Friday'!"

"Hey! What are you doing?" shouted Brittney as Natasha floored the huge, four-wheel drive all-terrain vehicle, causing every one of the passengers' whiplashes as they became glued to their seats. "What's the rush?"

Natasha, preoccupied with trying to save her friend's lives, ignored the numerous questions being thrown at her, "Everybody just shut up for a minute!" she exclaimed, attempting to keep the anxiety from her voice. The last thing she needed right now was for her friends to become frightened, unintentionally giving Freddy more power.

"Hey Natasha, there's no reason for you to drive like a made woman to the liquor store," offered Jordan, "I've got a few extra cans right back here!" He held up a couple unopened cans of beer, clearly proud of himself.

"Hey! I'm not kidding! Everyone shut the hell up, okay. Your lives are in danger," _so much for trying to keep them calm,_ Natasha mulled.

"Stop shitting with us!" screamed Joe, as Natasha sped around a sharp corner, nearly turning on two wheels. "This isn't funny anymore," he whined, while rubbing his elbow which had smashed into the window on the turn.

"Natasha, what's going on?" Brittney calmly questioned. She knew there must be a good reason for what Natasha was doing. Natasha wasn't one to play practical jokes.

Natasha didn't see any way around telling them the truth. _Oh God, they're going to think I'm nuts. _"Look, I know this is going to be hard to believe, but right now, you're all asleep! You need to wake up! If you don't, you just might not wake up at all!"

"ASLEEP MY ASS!" Joe was hysterical now, "PULL OVER NOW!"

"I can't!" Natasha fired back, "We have to keep moving!" She made a hard left hand turn and pulled onto Sycamore street, heading east, "If we stop, it makes it easier for him to find us."

"Who's _'him'_?" Jordan questioned from behind the driver's seat. Like Brittney, he had known Natasha for quiet some time, and knew that this was not her usual demeanor.

_I've gone this far, might as well continue. _She stole a glance at Brittney, seeing her friend's face growing white, "do you remember that old jump-rope ditty? You know, the one about the murder?"

"You mean the one about the Slasher? Yeah, I think I remember that tale?"

Yeah, if we survive this, they're going to lock me up in an institution. "It's not a tale…It happened." Natasha prayed that her friends would not question her further; she wasn't looking forward to telling the whole Freddy 101 story. 

"No, I was wrong, you don't need any more beer…YOU'VE ALREADY HAD A FEW!" Joe was angry now, tired of the rollercoaster ride Natasha had forced upon them. "It's just a little jig…it means nothing!"

"I thought that song was made up by our parents, and their parents when our parents were kids and so on. I thought it was created as a bedtime story to keep kids in order, ya know that 'be good or the monster will eat you' kinda the thing," offered Brittney, attempting to be the peacemaker.

Natasha sighed, frustrated, "No, it's not a bedtime story."

"What do you mean by that?" Jordan tensely asked.

Natasha didn't respond. Nor did she make any attempt to quell the fear her friends were emanating…for it was too late. Natasha's senses pinged in unison, informing her that something was amiss. He had found them.

"Yo, Natty, what did you mean by that?" snapped Joe, attempting to snap Natasha out of whatever trance she had meditated herself into.

Natasha closed her eyes, a dangerous thing to do at sixty-plus mph. She took a deep breath, slow and deliberate, as if it were her last, "I believe you are about to find out."

Her friends all turned to face her, just as the pavement underneath the SUV erupted and launched the huge vehicle skyward.

…

The night was cool and pleasant, almost tranquil. The moon, casting its bright, bluish-silver beams, shone like a solitary beacon in the heavenly sky. The strange colored light illuminated the fine white marble of the headstone, making it glow with its own life.

Neil gazed down at Nancy's grave, nervously debating what he should say. "Hi," _Damn that was lame, _"I uh…I fear that I've waited too long to do this…to talk to you I mean."

He stopped talking and fidgeted with his hands, trying to put into words what he had been feeling all these years. "It's been twenty years, Nancy, and I've never…not even once really thought about what happened; about your death, and …and what you died for."

He turned away from Nancy Thompson's headstone, which to his humiliation was located right next to her father's grave, the former Lt. Donald Thompson; another death he was responsible for. "I feel so…so ashamed, Nancy. I ignored…no…I chose to _reclassify _what those kids were going through, simply because of my close-mindedness. Then…I chose to shove you off when you tried to explain to me what was truly happening."

He tuned back towards her grave, addressing not only Nancy, but her father as well, "I'm responsible for your deaths. And to top it off…after it was all said and done…I never once said 'thank you'. You scarified your life for the kids of this town…to make sure they would be okay. You might have even saved the lives of hundreds more, for who knows what…what…he…would have done if he got passed you…if he got passed the kids."

Neil, close to tears, broke off from his confession, and gazed down the many rows of markers. At the very end of the cemetery, stood a statue of the Lord Jesus Christ, his arms open, welcoming his sleeping children to their peaceful rest. "Afterwards, I thought I had found religion…but in reality, I only became more confused. I kept asking myself…why, why did it have to be you? Why did you have to die?"

Overwhelmed by feelings of remorse and regret, Neil fell to his knees on top of Nancy's grave.

…

"HOLY SHIT!"

"WHAT WAS THAT NATASHA?"

"GET US OUT OF HERE!"

Natasha couldn't think. Her friends were screaming all at once, all distracting her from her concentration. It was imperative that she concentrate all her power on locating Freddy. She couldn't do that with everybody yelling at her.

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP AND HOLD ONTO SOMETHING!" she strained to overcome their cries with her own. The SUV was coming in for a hard landing, being sent up in the air at least thirty or forty feet. With a bone rattling crunch, the front of the Ford smashed into the road, completely caving in the hood. All within was thrown forward, coming to a sudden, jolting stop due to the seat belts…all save for Natasha.

She had not bothered to strap on her seat belt upon entering the car, and now was lifted up and over the steering wheel column and right through the windshield. The force of hitting the pavement knocked every once of air from her lungs, and caused her body to scream in pain.

Hearing the groan of steel, she put her pain aside and glanced back up the car, seeing it in slow motion as the SUV fell forward, threatening to fall right on top of her. Gasping for as much air as her injured lungs could withstand, she rolled as far away from the mangled wreck as her shattered body could move. With the windshield shattering, the car settled onto its roof, rocking unsteadily back and forth, till it found a comfortable resting place.

All was silent; nothing moved, nothing made a sound for what seemed like eternity. Natasha used the time to glance back at the broken pavement behind the car, seeing the arched folds of the man-made stone lying in awkward, scattered positions. _It looks like some creature just launched itself up and through the pavement._ _Great…a Freddymonster._

Movement from within the wrecked vehicle caught her attention. "You guys okay?" she called to her entombed friends, hoping they had escaped the crash relatively unscathed.

Long seconds passed by before a muffled response answered her call, "We're alright. We need some help in here!"

Heaving herself from the ground, Natasha limped her way to the driver's side, kicking in the window and getting down on her hands and knees. Peering in she asked, "Is anybody hurt?"

"What do you think?" Joe snapped, apparently still angry at her.

Brittney moaned, "Hurry up and get us out of here before it explodes or something."

Natasha began inching her way forward, crawling into the mangled interior. "Oh, by the way, Natasha," Brittney's voice stopped her movement. "I'm not letting you drive…ever again."

Natasha smiled at her friends' ability to make jokes at this critical moment. "Darn, I was so looking forward to driving your Chrysler 300."

Suddenly, the floor of the SUV, now serving as their roof, sank in from the middle. Screams erupted from each of the trapped passengers, breaking the night's silence. The torn and tattered seats bore down on them, becoming blunt but still deadly battering rams. What remained of the vehicles windows shattered, splintering under the growing pressure of the imploding compartment.

"JESUS GET US OUTA HERE!" came Brittney's shrill scream, her composure finally reaching its limit. Franticly, she tore at her seat belt, attempting in vain to break in off in order to free herself.

Reaching over the wide void of the driver's side, Natasha grabbed hold of the strap, and in one fluid motion, snapped the belt restraining her friend. Avoiding the paths of the crushing seats, she snaked her way into the back and did the same to Jordan's and Joe's belts.

"What the hell is going on here, Natasha!" Jordan demanded, just as the SUV's thick, treaded tires popped simultaneously. They all crouched low, trying to escape from whatever force lay on top of the car.

"We need to get out of here!" cried Natasha, knowing full well that staying inside the vehicle, with all the splintering parts and increasingly compressing area, would be quite literally suicide.

"WHAT! And go outside! Out in the open!" Joe's eyes were wild, almost animal-like.

"Whatever's outside is not even as close to as dangerous as staying in here!" Natasha fired back, knowing full well that what she had just spoken may not be true. She knew what awaited them out there, in the black of night. There really was not a lesser evil in this circumstance, but she saw no other choice in the matter. It was face whatever horror Freddy was to throw at them, or stay inside the car and be crushed. "Come on! I'll lead the way!"

Crawling over Jordan's legs, Natasha cautiously poked her head out of the window, and peered around. Nothing stirred in the surrounding area, and despite all the commotion on top of the SUV, nothing was there. It was as if the very air surrounding the car was what was attempting to kill them.

Not wasting any more time, she pulled her way through the window, ignoring the cuts the small fragments of glass along the frame caused her, and motioned for her friends to follow.

Having no other choice but to trust their friend, the rest followed suite, quickly clearing the death trap which at one point, used to be a very expensive and glamorous edition to Springwood. Once all outside, the group of friends backed off from the vehicle and watched as an invisible hand clenched and completely obliterated the car. If they had stayed inside, they would all be dead for sure.

All looked on, attempting to catch their breath. "Well, that was fun," Jordan gasped.

Metal crunched behind them, breaking everyone's trance. All whipping themselves around, they searched for the source of the sound, wondering what other horrors this night was to offer.

There, on a car rooftop crouched the source of the noise. A long, vibrating growl emanated from the creature that scrutinized them, eyes glowing a strange gold. Talons the size of butcher knives scraped the aging paint, creating long, deep grooves in the cars surface. Saliva dripped from a gaping mouth, full of jagged razor-like teeth. A shaggy coat the color of smoke rippled over bugling, taut muscles. A tail, alive with dozens of slimly snakes, whipped the sides of the beast, flashing their elongated fangs and split tongues at the four repelled onlookers.

Natasha gaped at the devilish wolf-like creature, seeing the murderous intent gleaming in its other-worldly eyes. The creature shifted, causing the old car to whine in protest under the hound's weight. She took a long, deep breath and prayed as she boldly stepped forward, putting herself in-between the creature and her friends.

"What do you think you're doing?" whispered Brittney, barely being able to suppress her panic.

Natasha stared into the creature's dead orbs, knowing full well what or better put, who this really was, "My job."

Screeching from behind them caused them all to re-direct their attention. Three half-human, half-zombie like creatures had been sneaking up on the group, circling and trapping them where they stood. Blood and pus leaked from every bodily opening, staining what little bits of clothing covered their ghost-like, almost transparent skin. _Pawns!_, Natasha's mind screamed the word, as she gazed into their empty, milky eyes. She recoiled as she realized that one of them looked vaguely familiar. _Mark?_ She swallowed vomit as she gazed upon what used to be her boyfriend.

"Natasha?" Jordan ventured tentatively, as if the very action of talking would provoke the zombies or hound into attacking. "You, uh…have any ideas here?"

Natasha looked from the hound to the zombies and back to the hound. She would bet her life that the hound was none other than Freddy himself, and she was well aware of the fact that she didn't have the strength to fight him again, not this soon. That left the pawns. She could take them easily enough, but she had no doubt that while she was facing off with them, FreddyHound would attack her friends. If she engaged FreddyHound, the pawns would be the ones to attack her friends. There was no easy way out.

Finally she made her choice, "You do whatever it is that you have to." She met the gazes of her friends, seeing the utter confusion registering on their faces. "Try to live, protect each other."

Not sure that she wanted to hear them respond, Natasha turned and charged the devilish wolf, leaving them to deal with the pawns. The FreddyHound howled before leaping off his perch, running pell-mell to meet her attack head-on.

Her friends watched in horror as Natasha and the hound ran towards one another. When the hound raced through a patch of moonlight, they gasped in unison as its smoke-colored coat shimmered red and green.

Natasha called upon the last of her strength as she prepared to ram into Freddy, knowing that however this battle turned out, it would end quickly. The distance between them grew shorter with each stride they took, until finally, they were mere strides from each other. Just as Natasha was about to pull her arm back for what she hopped to be a stunning punch, FreddyHound gathered himself up, and launched himself completely over Natasha's five foot eight frame, avoiding her attack.

"COME ON! WE HAVE TO HELP HER!" cried Joe, realizing for the first time this night, that Natasha had been telling the truth.

He prepared himself to join in on the fight, when he suddenly felt a cold, wet hand grip his wrist, wrenching him to a sudden stop. He turned around to see who had stopped him, fully expecting it to be either Brittney or Jordan. His heart grew cold and he broke out in a clammy sweat as his eyes traveled up the translucent arm, all the way up to the grayish-white eyes of one of the zombies. He opened his mouth to cry out for help, but nothing came out. He franticly looked around for the others, and his hopes fell as he caught a glimpse of Brittney and Jordon, each attempting to fight off their own zombie, and too busy to worry about anyone else.

Joe reeled back his free hand and landed a punch to the zombies head. When his punch resulted in sheering off the zombies jaw, Joe wasn't sure if he should smile in satisfaction, or gag in disgust. The corpse, apparently not affected by the impact, twisted Joe's arm, breaking it in one fluid motion.

Joe cried out in pain as he felt every bone in his arm shatter. He fell to his knees and did his best to cradle the useless extremity. Looking back up at the face of the mutilated zombie, Joe watched in horrid fascination as the zombie, seemingly in slow motion, pulled back both arms, and swung them down with bone crushing force.

A scream punctured the night as Joe's body fell to the ground and didn't move. Natasha had watched the horrific scene play out before her, as if she were watching some terrible movie. She had watched, only forty feet away, but still not able to do anything to save her friend. Only watch; like so many other deaths, she could only watch as good people were cut down before their time.

A cruelly gleeful laugh brought Natasha back to reality, forcing her to forget about Joe, and concentrate on her duty. Enraged, she spun to face the Demon who had caused her so much pain over the last six months; the Demon responsible for so many deaths: her little sister, her boyfriend, Mark, Joe, and so many countless others. As her eyes met Freddy's she felt more power than she could ever imagine pulsate through her body. A rush so powerful, that she was nearly intoxicated by it. _This is it; I'm not letting him take anyone else away from me._

"Oh my goodness, Natasha. I hope I haven't made you mad." He spoke to her condescendingly, mocking her hatred. Freddy had transformed himself back to his original form, his goal of scaring her companions obtained. Natasha knew that he had only appeared in the devilish-hound form to scare her friends and feed his power. Because of the fear her friends had emanated, Freddy's power was at full strength, and they both knew that he only needed half of that strength to finish her off.

She snarled, all the rage at the point of boiling over, "You…son of a bitch!"

"Now, now, now, Natasha. We wouldn't want you to lose your temper now would we?" he teased, waging his clawed finger in the air as if disciplining a naughty child. "I thought you had better manors than that."

Natasha had had enough, "SHUT THE HELL UP!" She lunged at Freddy, intending to tackle him to the ground and beat him to a bloody pulp.

Faster than she could have ever imagined, Freddy grabbed hold of her before she had the chance to finish her move, and slammed her into a nearby electric poll, causing her head to ricochet violently as she went limp. The force behind the impact sent sparks flying off in every direction, until finally, the electric box caught fire.

Freddy didn't do anything for what seemed like hours, but in reality, must have only been a few seconds. Finally, he spoke, "So long, my dear," Freddy raised his razored hand, and with one quick, flawless swipe, he drew his claws across her exposed neck, severing her jugular.

He let go of her, letting her fall to the ground in a heap. With her last few breaths, she tried to see what had happened to her friends, _God, please let them be alive! Please don't let me die in vain!_ It took several seconds for her blood deprived eyes to focus well enough for her to see the distance to where her friends had been When she had finally brought them into focus, her heart cried in anguish. Both Brittney and Jordan, having lasted in their battle with Freddy's Pawns longer than Joe, had finally succumbed to the mindless corpses. Like Joe, they too lay on the ground, their bodies broken and bloody.

Vaguely, Natasha was aware of Freddy as he stumbled, and held his hand over his heart, as if suffering from a heart attack. Just before she closed her teary eyes, she saw him just as he collapsed to his knees. For some strange reason, Natasha suddenly thought back to something Freddy had told her the night before: _We are one in the same. _She began choking; drowning in the own blood.

…

Tears spent, Neil Gordon rose from his bent position over Nancy's grave. He had come here this night to resolve an emptiness that had been growing in his soul for twenty years. He had come here, had devouged his innermost thoughts and feelings; and had accomplished nothing. He was no more closer to healing his heart now than what he had been twenty years ago.

With a defeated cry, he shouted, "Just tell what I should do, Nancy! Help me!"

He buried his head in his hands, finally, after all these years, losing his composure. All the thoughts, feelings and emotions he had kept buried for so long, suddenly erupted from deep within his body, releasing from every vein and sinew within his core.

A crackling noise, similar to that of lightning, caused him to look up in surprise. About a hundred yards away and directly in front of him, but slightly off to his right, he saw a huge display of sparks emanating from a transistor box. He recoiled as the sparks ignited into a full blown fire that threatened to engulf nearby treetops. The fire began to race along the electric wires, spreading in both directions.

"My God!" Believing that such a catastrophe could only be caused by a severe car accident, Neil picked himself up from the dewy ground, and ran as fast as he could towards the raging flames.

…

HOT DAMN that was a long chapter! Sorry guys for making you read all of that. I PROMISE, that no other chapters will get THAT long again.

I hope that it flowed better to you's as you's read it than it did to me as I wrote it, but like I said, I had a huge brain fart. Oh by the way, I'm copy writing the term "brain fart". I want a dollar from everyone who uses it. So you! I want a dollar right now! Come on, cough it up you! Allright, so you don't want to give it to me, I guess I'll just have to come find you. Keep looking over your shoulder because I'ma coming!

Oh! I promise to not make you wait another 3 or so weeks for the next update.


	4. Right of The Keeper

Wwwhhooo! Thank you guys so much for the extremely nice compliments in your reviews! I'm so happy, I'm doing the Happy Dance! I'm glad you all are liking this story. I'll do my best to update faster, and the good news is that I'm pretty sure this story will be done before school starts up again.

I'm sorry, but yes Natasha is dead. However, because she has turned out to be more popular than I thought she would be, I've come up with a story idea to bring her back…at least for a bit. And no, I won't make her a "pawn", she'll come back as a Keeper.

I'll let you go so you can start reading. Enjoy!

**Too Young **

**Chapter 4: Right of the Keeper**

Fire raced along its track of power lines, gathering speed and intensity as it spread out in both directions from the transistor. The flames created a ring of eerie orange-ish light and caused the black shadows that lurked underneath miscellaneous objects to jump with life.

Stumbling with exhaustion from climbing the steep incline leading out of the cemetery, Neil topped the hill and gasped at the scene that lay before him. The area looked like something from a war movie; vehicles lay crushed, chunks of pavement were scattered everywhere and enough blood to paint the Capital Building lay in pools and dripped down the storm drains along the street sides. The scene was ghastly; completely unbelievable.

It took several seconds for Neil to register what he was seeing. Shaking off his initial shock, Neil reacted on his instincts and sprinted over to the devastated remains of what used to be a SUV. The massive vehicle was overturned and little more than a cube of twisted metal. He prayed that nobody had been inside it when the thing had been crushed, for it literally looked as if it had been smashed by those junkyard car crushers.

Neil skidded to a stop outside of what he assumed to be the driver's side door and fell to his knees, trying to peer through the wreckage to spot any survivors. Not seeing a driver, Neil strained his eyes to look at the front passenger's seat, and saw what looked to be the remains of a teenage girl. His eyes were drawn to a large red stain around her abdomen, and he recoiled as he saw that the girl was nearly gutted.

Seriously doubting that the strange girl sitting before him could be alive, Neil did his best to crane his neck to see in the back seat, hoping any passengers had better luck than their counterpart did. He thought he saw some hair and maybe a hand sticking up from the mysterious depths of the wreckage, but there was no way to be sure. One thing he was sure of though was that there was no noise emanating from the back, and that wasn't a good sign.

Hearing a sound of a door opening off to his left, Neil turned to see an elderly lady dressed in a light blue robe, peeking around her doorframe. "Call an ambulance!" Neil ordered her, as he started around to the other side to try to get a better view of the passengers. If there was somebody alive in the vehicle, it was important that they know there was help on the way. Despite his efforts though, he was still unable to see much, although he thought he could make out what seemed like two bodies.

He looked back towards the home of the lady, and was flabbergasted to see her still standing on her porch, gawking at the grisly scene in front of her home. "CALL FOR HELP! DO IT NOW!" Finally, the woman was shaken from her trance, and made her way inside to call 911.

Without being able to get to the injured passengers, there wasn't much else Neil could do to help until the EMP's showed up. Looking around, Neil tried to do his best to asses what happened. Back behind the battered SUV, about forty or so feet, Neil saw the road's pavement splintered as if something had broken through the thick highway. Not far from the shattered pavement and twisted vehicle, a parked car sitting alongside the road had its roof and hood dented in, as if something heavy had stood on top of it. Looking a little farther along, Neil saw what had sparked the fire; an electric poll had been impacted hard enough to send splinters out the back end of it. It was unclear to Neil what had caused the extreme damage to the SUV, for the poll had not been hit hard enough to cause the wreckage he saw.

Off in the distance, Neil heard the mournful wails of emergency sirens firing up, beginning their race to the scene. He knew they would be asking him questions; questions about how long ago this had happened, how did you learn of it, and most importantly, how he had ended up so close to the scene of devastation that he could lend help so quickly. Neil could easily answer all questions he knew they would throw at him, save the last; how he had been at the right spot at the right time to lend help.

With the sirens growing closer to the scene of the crime, Neil turned his back on the overturned vehicle and stared in wonderment towards the Springwood Cemetery. _Could she really have…no…it's impossible. Nancy's dead, she couldn't have led me here._ Neil paced, impatient for the ambulance to arrive.

…

Diane tiredly slid out of her car, hesitated a moment to let her legs adjust to holding her weight, and slowly began making her way to the front door. After unlocking the thick, intricately designed wooden door, she halfway stumbled through the doorway and carelessly tossed her purse on top the kitchen table. "Natasha! I'm home!" She hadn't had time to eat dinner before her shift at the bank had started, and she hadn't had any time to have any kind of snack while at work. But it had taken nearly all her energy to call up to her daughter that she was home; she had nothing left to direct towards eating.

Putting all of her focus to climbing the stairs, Diane carefully made her way up each carpeted step. She wanted desperately to go to bed; she had to go back to work early the next morning to open up, and she wanted to get every bit of shut eye she could before having to get up and go again. But as tired as she was, she decided to check in on Natasha quickly before turning in herself.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of climbing Mt. Everest, Diane reached the peak of the stairs and turned right, heading off in the direction of her daughter's bedroom. As she drew closer, Diane could see that Natasha's light was still on, the hard yellow glow seeping out from under the closed door. She sighed in sympathy for her daughter, realizing that Natasha was having to put in yet another long night into working on her computer, no doubt another report for school she had to get done. Diane realized that actually, compared to her daughter's workload, she had an easy time of it; at least when she came home from work, she didn't have hours of homework yet to do.

Reaching the closed door to her daughter's bedroom, Diane knocked quietly, hopping to not disturb Natasha if she was deep into her homework. When she received no response, Diane slowly turned the door handle and pushed the door open. As the door opened, receding into the room and allowing Diane a better view, a slow smile of amusement played on her lips at the scene that greeted her.

Natasha sat with her back to the opening door, slumped over her computers desktop, sound asleep. Diane knew her daughter must have drifted off to sleep in that position while trying to think of what else to type on her report, for the computer's screen still showed an open Microsoft Word document.

Diane swallowed the urge to take a picture of this "Kodak moment" and quietly tiptoed over to her daughter, knowing she should wake Natasha and allow her to finish her paper. She gently shook Natasha's shoulder, trying to not scare her as she awoke from her sleep. Despite her attempt to not disturb her daughter too much, Natasha's body, seemingly limp, rocked back into her chair, causing her head to fall back, exposing her shredded throat.

Screaming, Diane leaped backward, staring in horror at the sight of her daughter's muscle and neck tissue hanging from the wide gash that ran from one side of her neck to the other. Blood had seemingly gushed from the mortal wound, running down her front, staining her clothing and gathering in a pool on the computer chair she sat in. The blood had splattered onto the keyboard, ruining the delicate instrument.

Diane stumbled backward, fell over some object and began to crawl backward out of the open doorway, all the while not diverting her eyes from her daughter's wide-eyed, shocked gaze. Pulling herself up, Diane ran from her daughter's room, tears streaking down her face.

…

Libby hurried down the long corridor that led to the waiting area, letting her long legs carry her out of the Westin Hills Counseling facility. Her session with Dr. Yin had gone a good hour passed the scheduled ending time, and she was more than ready to get the hell out of the shadowy building.

Not only had the session run over the time allotted, which irritated Libby anyway, but the whole appointment had been a disaster; one extremely uncomfortable moment leading to an even more uncomfortable moment after another. Dr. Yin had attempted to coax Libby into realizing that what had happened to her a year before in fact, wasn't her fault. Yin had tried to make Libby understand that she wasn't a bad person, and that she now had an opportunity to make a fresh start. Yin had explained that because Libby's mother had decided to move down to Springwood, this allowed Libby a second chance; a chance to put the past behind her and make new, more fitting relationships here.

Libby had disagreed, practically shouting "I don't want to make new relationships! I don't want to belong here!" along with some asterisks and explicative curses that she now shuddered to think that she had been capable of such profane language. _What's the point of starting a new life here? I now know what lies inside the hearts of every person under the sun_._ If I stay distant and don't get attached to anyone, there's no way that anybody can ever again hurt me._

Convinced that Yin wasn't qualified to be a pet psychiatrist, Libby rushed past the receptionist's desk, not bothering to say a goodbye, and all but ran down hallway that led to the outside world. Flinging open the heavy doors, Libby breathed in the cool night air, letting it wrap around her, cooling both her body and her anger. Glancing up into the night sky, she saw the beautiful patterns of twinkling stars, burning brightly all that distance away to bring a soft warm glow to the tiny people inhabiting this planet. The shimmying, dancing beacons comforted her, sending warmth through her body. But the warmth did little to sooth her tortured soul. That part of her, like always, stayed cold and barren, completely untouchable to any outside influence.

Libby diverted her eyes away from the comforting sight, and began making the journey to her home. She had spent enough time out in the open and it was time to recede back into safety. A whoosh of air above her caught Libby's attention and she shot her eyes skyward once again, looking for the cause of the unexpected rush of air. Nothing moved, nothing that could explain the cool air lingered anywhere around Libby's position.

Shrugging the incident off, Libby continued on her way, feeling a bit more exposed than before. Suddenly, out of nowhere, an agonized shriek of what sounded somewhat like an eagle pierced the air directly above Libby. A force more powerful than Libby could have ever imagined hit her like a ton of bricks, knocking her over and causing her to hit the ground violently. Her vision was blinded by a series of images; images of children. Children no older than eight or nine swarmed in her eyes, cutting off anything else that would've been in her view. The children were happy; smiling and laughing while playing with other kids of similar age. Without warning, the images of carefree children were replaced with images of dead, lifeless corpses, all bloody and mutilated beyond recognition.

She was shocked by the ghastly images she saw, but she barely had time to register what she was seeing before an entirely new sensation gripped her with iron hands. Libby began seeing visions not of children, but of older kids, teenagers. The faces swarmed around her, suffocating her very being. The faces gave way to visions of unbelievable images; images that could only occur in the realm of dreams, of nightmares. So horrible were the visions that Libby was shaken to her very core, touching the most primitive of primal fear.

Suddenly, the nightmarish scenes gave way to blinding pain. Pain gripped every vein, every tendon, and every fiber of her body. Her vision went to an otherworldly white, bright enough to remind her of a nuclear explosion. Slowly, the pain started to pinpoint in one single area, her chest. Libby felt as if a huge claw had just torn through her front, sending a searing pain resounding through her torso. The pain from the invisible claw gave way to a burning sensation around her neck. The grip tightened, until she couldn't breath and she began to choke. None too soon, that pain gave way a feeling of being drained of all her blood. She felt light and rubbery without her life-force flowing through her veins. That pain mutated into countless lashings across her back, which yielded to the gut-wrenching feeling of talons tearing through her stomach, skewering her body.

On and on the diverse pain went. Libby began to grow numb to the various painful points invading her body, taking advantage of her in her vulnerable state._ It has no right!_ her pain-numbed brain screamed. She began to feel sick, nauseas and light headed; it was just too much for one person to withstand.

After what seemed like an eternity, the final piercing to come over her was one of a feeling of being chopped into countless pieces; as if she were being shredded. All at once, ever ounce of the racking pain left her body, leaving her oddly cold but at peace. She lay on there on the sidewalk's pavement not moving, barely daring to breathe as the night continued on around her. _What the hell just happened?_

Slowly, she gathered her strength and began to inch her way up into a sitting position. She felt that prickling sensation one gets when one's limbs fall asleep, and she patiently let the blood flow back into her arms and legs. Gradually, her breathing returned to normal and she felt brave enough to stand. After balancing on her weary legs for a couple of seconds she took a tentative step forward.

"Hey miss, you okay?"

Libby slowly craned her head in the direction of the voice, for she didn't want to push her body too far too quickly. She saw the person the voice belonged to; a man in his mid fifties stood a short distance away, watching her intently. Libby wasn't too comfortable with the fact that the man was so close to her, but she relaxed a bit when she saw an elderly lady, his wife she assumed, standing a couple paces behind her husband. Libby guessed that they had witnessed her fall to the ground and were seeing if she was okay.

"Yeah…I think…I'm okay," Libby actually wasn't too sure of that. She still felt a bit funny, kind of dizzy, but nothing more. _At least I'm not writhing in pain anymore._

"Do you have a history of seizers, honey?" The elderly lady looked extremely concerned towards Libby, apparently not believing that she was indeed fine.

It took a moment for the question to register in Libby's head, "What? Uh…no…no I'm just fine thank you. I think I'm just going to go home an...," she never got to finish, for right then and there, a darkness consumed her, and Libby collapsed.

The elderly man rushed over, scared for the girl, thinking that she had just suffered some type of medical trauma. Reaching her side, he knelt down and felt for a pulse.

"George, is she okay? What's wrong?" the lady was nearly panicked. What had started as a nice evening walk had turned into a life or death situation.

George was silent for a while, before slowly turning back to his wife, a look of horror plastered on his face. When he spoke, his voice was slow and deliberate, and very hollow, "Bettie…she's dead."

The two of them stared at one another, not understanding what had just taken place before them. George was about to stand to go find help, when a scream like one that he had never heard before erupted from the girl's throat. Stranger still was the fact that the scream was not female, but in fact was male.

If the elderly couple had grown up around Springwood, and if they had been around in the mid 1960s, they might have known that the voice they were now hearing coming from the girl's mouth, was none other than Freddy Krueger himself.

…

Well, this chapter was considerably shorter than the last. I thought about going on a bit and making this a little longer by continuing the story, but I opted not to. I wanted to make you guys all wait. Ha, ha, ha! I'm evil! Nah, I'm just kidding, the real reason I didn't go on was because I didn't want to put you all through reading another 20 page or so long chapter. The eyes you know, get tired after a while.

By the way, if you didn't understand, the physical wounds that Libby was experiencing were the exact same wounds that Freddy's victims experienced in the Nightmare movies, and in the exact order they died. I only explained the first 2 movies, cause I didn't want to go all the way through all the movies, describing the death scenes of each victim. Also, the nightmares she saw in her visions, were the nightmares that all the Nightmare characters experienced. I was going to explain this in the text of the next couple of chapters, but after re-reading it, I saw that it could be a little confusing.

I'll update ASAP! Till then, be safe!


	5. An Interview and a Coffee

Hey ya'll! I'm sorry for the slow update. I know I promised you I would get this ch. up on Monday, then I said Tuesday afternoon. Well, as I'm uploading this right now, it's almost 11:00. Hey, it's still Tuesday, right?

Thank you's so much for the continuation of the GREAT reviews! They keep me motivated.

And yes, Darkness Takes Over, you're actually about right when you guessed that Freddy was beginning to posses Libby. I'll address this later, but remember Freddy's quote in the first chapter, "We are one in the same."

I hope you've been enjoying this as much as I've enjoyed writing it! Now that Libby has been "chosen" the story will get a lot faster.

Okay…I shut up so you can read, and so that I can go watch Prison Break! PRISON BREAK! PRISON BREAK! PRISON BREAK! The DVDs of season 1were released today! PRISON BREAK! YYEEAAHH!

**Too Young**

**Chapter 5: An Interview and a Coffee**

Sophie charged down the unending white hallway, tunnel-vision directing her to a single emergency room situated cruelly at the very end of the corridor. Nurses and off-duty doctors were forced to jump out of her way as she ran blindingly towards her target. Sophie had a fleeting image of herself as a speeding car and everyone else were small critters, scurrying out of the way before they got squished.

Pain-filled screams escaped from the room she was headed for, followed by forceful commands being yelled from gruff sounding authorities. Fear gripped Sophie's heart upon hearing the pain-filled shrieks coming from the very room she was headed for. Determination willed her legs to move faster, propelling her onward at a break-neck speed.

Chaos greeted her as she reached the rooms entrance. The room was in utter disarray: syringes and various medical instruments lay scattered across the white-tiled floor, police officers huddled together in groups along the walls, watching the scene warily and dodging objects being thrown their way in the mad rush.

What grabbed Sophie's attention the most however, was located near the far wall, and was obviously the center of everyone else's attention as well. Nurses and doctors were working together to restrain a wildly thrashing girl. The girl looked somewhat familiar to Sophie, but the wild child in front of her seemed more like something out of a war zone than someone she would know. The girls face was streaked with tears and snot and her hair lay in sweaty matted clumps. Her clothes were torn and ripped, as if she had clawed at them, snagging the threads and nearly tearing them off her delicate body. What shocked Sophie the most though, was the girl's eyes; filled with a primal fear Sophie had never seen before. The child was nearly incoherent, throwing the doctors and nurses off of her and kicking furiously at anyone who dared to venture too close. The teenager was bleeding from several points on her arms, and even from this distance, Sophie could tell the wounds had been caused by syringe needles, which the girl had been able to knock out of her arm before the medical team could inject a tranquilizer. The air was filled with panic-filled cries; cries that contained not only pain but absolute terror which chilled Sophie down to the bone.

It took Sophie several moments to set aside her initial shock, but when she was finally able to shake off her trance, she looked hard into the face of the wild child. With utter shock and disbelief, she realized that the animal-like thing in front of her was none other than her daughter, Liberty.

Shoving aside any thoughts for her own safety, Sophie plunged forward and charged headlong into the may lay. A kick from her daughter sent a tray full of surgical tools flying, causing all within range to scatter away from the scalpels' sharp edges. Sophie was vaguely aware of the prick a small scalpel caused her on her left forearm, but she didn't dare take the time to inspect herself. _I have to get to my daughter!_

Having crossed the length of the room, Sophie finally reached her daughter's side, doing some shoving of her own to get passed the otherwise occupied nurses. "LIBBY! LIBBY CAN YOU HEAR ME!" She reached out to grab her daughter's shoulders, trying to snap her child out of whatever state she was in. Upon touching her daughter's body, a new surge of screams erupted from Libby's core. She thrashed wildly, blindly scratching the air with her finger nails.

Sophie recoiled from her daughter, flabbergasted that Libby had reacted with such terror from her mother's touch. Libby was terrified; Sophie could see it in her eyes, in the way she was behaving, in the way she acted out to her surroundings. _She's acting like she thinks the very air is going to hurt her!_

A sudden dread filled Sophie's heart, chocking her and causing her to freeze with terror. _Dear God, _she thought_, she hasn't been attacked again, has she?_ Instinct kicked in and Sophie again ran for her daughter, thinking of nothing else but to provide protection for her child.

As she once again attempted to break through the strong chain of medical personal encircling her daughter, she was finally noticed by one of the doctors trying to tend to Libby's IV. "Officers! Get this woman out of here!" he shouted at the small group of the Springwood Police officers huddled together near the doorway, as far away as possible from the deranged girl. Not one of the policemen moved, apparently spooked by the odd behavior of the young girl. All of them stared dumbly at him, as if he had spouted two heads. _God our police are incompetent!_ "I SAID GET THIS WOMAN OUT OF HERE! DO IT NOW OR I'LL HAVE YOUR BADGES!_" _It was an empty threat, but he hoped they'd be stupid enough to believe him.

_Yeah, stupid enough alright_. Concern for their jobs overwritedconcern for their bodies, and the cops tentatively moved forward. When he was in reach, the burliest of the bunch made a daring leap and lunged for the hysterical woman, tearing her away from the nurses who were doing their best to fight two fronts at once.

Sophie fought hard against the man who grabbed her, not realizing he was a cop and not caring if she had known. Primal instinct had seized her body and all she cared about was protecting her daughter. _I have to help Libby!_ Sophie kicked and screamed, driving her heels into the man's shins, finally succeeding in breaking his hold on her. She turned back around towards her daughter's bed, but was stopped by another man who grabbed one of her arms. Blindly, she clawed at her new assailant, intent on ripping his throat out. More hands took hold of her clawing arm, jerking her away from her prey.

"We're trying to help you, Miss! Just calm down!"

Sophie was vaguely aware of the words as her two captors began to drag her backwards, away from her daughter. She did her best to stop their progress, but the two men held her tightly. "LET ME GO BACK! PLEASE, THAT'S MY DAUGHTER IN THERE! THAT'S MY LIBBY! LET ME GO BACK!"

Her pleas did little to rattle the trained cops. With the last glimpse Sophie was able to steal of her daughter, she saw Libby still fighting with the doctors. Fighting against the ones whose job it was to protect, to help, as if she were instead fighting against deadly and dangerous foes; as if she were fighting for her life. With each others help, the Springwood Police drug Sophie out of the emergency room.

…

"So…let me understand this…you were over in the Nightingale Cemetery when you saw the explosion. You didn't see or hear anything prior to that?"

"No," Neil tensely answered, barely able to keep the frustration out of his voice. Due to the dire medical situation, the police had decided to haul Neil over to the hospital and interrogate him there, so that the injured could be attended to faster. It was late, nearly midnight, and Neil wanted to go home and get some sleep.

"The victim's vehicle was demolished, Mr. Gordon. An accident capable of creating that amount of damage would surly had caused a hell of a lot of noise. Are you sure you didn't hear anything unusual?"

Neil stared intently, almost challengingly into the detective's eyes. "I'm absolutely positive I didn't notice anything, _sir._" Neil purposely strained the last word, hopping that the cop would get the point and leave him alone. _Jeez, no wonder why people never do any 'good Samaritan' deeds anymore. Every time they do, the authorities give them the 3rd degree._

"What were you doing out so late at night, Mr. Gordon? Why were you in an old cemetery?"

Neil couldn't help but roll his eyes. _It's still a free country…it's none of your business what I was doing out there._ Neil bit his tongue to keep from spurting some snide remark; it wouldn't help his cause to bad mouth a cop, especially a nosey cop like this one. Putting on his best "we both knew it's fake" smile, Neil slowly responded, "Officer, I was reacquainting myself with this lovely town. It's been some years since I was last fortunate enough to find myself in such a friendly community," his smile widened as the last of his sentence smoothly rolled off his tongue.

The cop, obviously catching Neil's sarcasm, sneered up at the material witness. "Yes sir, Springwood is a fine town." He closed his notepad, and straightened up his uniform, "I believe that's all I need for now, Mr. Gordon. Have a pleasant night."

Neil watched as the young cop strutted away, heading off in the direction he supposed he was most likely to run into his superior officer. "Now there's someone who takes his job just a little too seriously," Neil said aloud before he could stop himself. _Not that it matters anyway_, he thought, _there's nobody else around here at this hour._ The cop had kept him here at the bleak and empty hospital, re-asking the same questions over and over for hours.

_Well, now I can go home and try to put this night out of my mind._ Neil turned on his heel, and headed in the direction of the nearest elevator. He waited for several moments after pressing the button, and when the elevator still made no sign of making an appearance, Neil sighed heavily and accepting his fate, walked to the stairwell entrance. _I need the exercise anyway._

…

Sophie paced nervously in the emergency wards waiting area, creating a new rivet in the already worn out carpet. Two beefy cops stood right outside the room's door, flanking either side should she attempt to make a dash towards her daughter's room again. She had tried that before, and failed miserably. That had been nearly a half-hour ago, and ten minutes after she had been led to this room to wait for word on her daughter.

Exhausted, Sophie fell into one of the numerous cushioned chairs and reached for some kind of home and garden magazine. The catalog was well worn, and as Sophie read the date on the front cover, she understood why…Summer 1995. She quickly flipped through magazines contents, not really paying any attention to the information it held within its faded pages. She was too nervous, too anxious. _And why wouldn't I be? My daughter is down the hall in some kind of post-traumatic shock! What kind of a mother would I be if I wasn't anxious?_

She threw the magazine away, finished with its colorful and flowery pictures. The catalog had obviously been put in here to console grieving families while they waited for word of loved ones. She wasn't in the mood to be consoled. She was in the mood to take action.

Standing hastily, not allowing herself to think about what she was doing, Sophie walked with a determined air back to the door that led to the hallway, the hallway that at its end, led to her daughter. She saw the cops outside move to intercept her, but she wasn't about to let them bar her way again. The doctors had kept her waiting long enough; it was time she found out what was happening to Libby.

One of the cops extended his hand, signaling for her to halt, "Now hold it ma'am. Our orders are to hold you here until your daughter has been sedated."

Sophie answered slowly, allowing the cops to take in her malice, "They've had quite enough time to do their job. Now I'm doing mine."

The two officers glanced nervously at each other, as if wondering what to do. They weren't used to being challenged, and so had no idea of how to respond. Lucky enough for them, they didn't have to make a decision for themselves, for right at that moment, a doctor, looking quite stressed, rounded the corner and headed in the direction of the waiting room.

"Officers, it's all right…I'll take it from here," he breathlessly gasped as he approached the small group of two relieved cops, and one disappointed woman.

Taking the opportunity to flee, the cops turned sharply and walked as quickly as possible in the opposite direction while still keeping their dignity. Sophie looked after them, unsatisfied that she would be unable to give them a piece of her mind.

"Sophie Morgan?" the doctor asked as he came up beside her. Sophie saw with some distain that it was the same doctor who had originally ordered the police to throw her out of her daughter's room, almost 45 minutes ago.

She nodded, putting her displeasure to the back of her mind and turning her attention solely to her daughter. "What's happening? Is Libby all right?"

The sweaty doctor motioned her to step back inside the waiting area, not wanting to disturb anybody else who would be in this section of the hospital. Sophie was beginning to hate that room; she didn't want to go back in there. She didn't think she could stand to look at the cream-colored painted walls or the gaudy flower pots holding cheap, plastic imitations of what they were supposed to contain. The room made her feel sick

The displeasure must have been evident on her face, for the doctor made a small laugh, "I understand how you feel, but I promise that everything will be explained if you just follow me." Stepping through first, he offered his hand to help guide her to a nearby chair. Reluctantly, Sophie took his hand, and allowed him to guide her to a seat.

Once settled, the doctor took no time in explaining the situation, no doubt understanding just how scared Sophie was for her child. "Miss. Morgan, your daughter was observed by to elderly by-standers suffering from what they described as, "some sort of seizer." They reported that she fell to the ground and then started screaming and thrashing around, throwing punches and kicks into the air; at nothing in-particular. This stopped after a few moments and she appeared to become fully lucid. That's when she was approached by the couple, when she stood. They report that she was talking and that she told them she was okay and that she was going to go home," he stopped, unsure of how to go on.

"Then what?" Sophie pressed, both grateful that he was concerned enough for her emotions to hesitate in telling the story, but annoyed that he was wasting precious time by being so concerned at something as insignificant as her well-being.

The doctor gathered himself and plunged on, "Then they report that she fell again, fell to the ground. They checked for any signs of life, and found none."

He made contact with her eyes, and saw nothing but utter confusion in them. Her lips parted in a quiet mummer as the doctors words sunk in. Her eyes began to moisten, the tears making her blue eyes, the same eyes as her daughters, glisten and shine.

"By all accounts, Miss Morgan, your daughter died."

The tears ruptured then, spilling out onto her cheek, smearing the make-up that covered her face. She let them fall, not caring about anything other than her Libby at that moment.

"We're grateful that the elderly gentlemen and his wife that witnessed this were actually retired doctors from the Chicago area. They were able to perform CPR until real help arrived.

Sophie covered her nose and mouth with a hand, silently sobbing into her own flesh. The doctor, Sophie realized that she didn't even know his name, silently sat next to her, letting her take the time that she needed to gather herself up.

After a moment, Sophie wiped what remained of her tears away from her face. She swallowed hard a couple of times to clear her throat, and then nodded, "Go on."

"When we got your daughter here, she was…completely hysterical. I'm not sure if there's a true medical term that would explain how Libby was behaving. She was wild…like a wild animal. She was attacking anything and everything in sight, not in aggression," he quickly added when Sophie's eyes widened, "but as in self-defense. It was as if she thought we were going to attack her, and she was defending herself."

Sophie took a deep, long breath. _This is too much! _

As if reading her mind, the doctor continued, "That's not all. We couldn't get her stabilized. Her heart would start and stop…it did that a couple times…and each time she was revived again…"

Sophie again, angled her head to look at the doctor, who had trailed off from his story. She felt an onslaught of emotions gripping her and they threatened to choke her.

"Each time she was revived…she would scream a scream I've never heard before…something I would've never imagined I'd have heard. It seemed as though there was two sets of voices talking and screaming at the same time."

The doctor stopped talking completely now, and she noticed with some alarm that he had goose bumps running the length of his arms. _My God, what went on down there?_

After some moments, the doctor had apparently shaken whatever emotion that had gripped him from his mind, "That was actually just minutes before you arrived, Miss Morgan. You saw the rest…she again was acting like a wounded, corned animal; afraid of everyone and everything. I've only seen that kind of behavior in victims of a brutal attack. They don't care who you are, they don't want you around."

Sophie closed her eyes, and was transported to one year ago…a time she had tried so very hard to forget…

She stood suddenly, disturbing the doctor, "I need to get something to eat." She began to walk out of the room, but stopped and again faced the doctor, "Um…sir? May I ask your name?"

"Of course. It's Dr. Waltz, Dr. Tom Waltz."

Sophie stood a moment longer, letting the name sink into her tired brain, "Thank you," she mouthed before turning and heading in the direction of the kitchen.

…

He was going home, and that's all he cared about. He was sorry for the three teens who'd lost their lives in some tragic accident that night, but he was almost sorrier that _he_ had been the one who had been close enough to be the material witness. It was the sole reason he was still here at the hospital at nearly midnight, on the eve of starting a new job.

Neil raced down the stairs, sometimes taking two at a time. Exhilaration of soon being able to rest in a "partly" soft bed overrode the exhaustion that had been plaguing his sore muscles for the last several hours. He couldn't wait to get out of the hospital; he had been _uncomfortable_ in them ever since…

He shook his head refusing to think of it.

He reached a landing and was about to continue his dissent to the bottom floor when suddenly, he ran into something hard; a door to be exact. He flew backwards, the force of the blow temporarily knocking the wind out of his lungs. Reaching out a hand, Neil caught himself on a handrail, stopping the fall that would have left a considerable bruise on his behind.

"Watch where you're going!" he snapped, sure that whoever had run into him was some technician or electrician trying to finish their job so they could go home and also get some peace.

The sight that greeted him, however, was slightly different than he had originally expected.

Hiding behind the heavy metal door as if for protection, with coffee spilled down the front of her shirt, was a very beautiful woman. She had dirty blonde hair, which had been pulled back into a very tight French braid, showing off her long neck. She was dressed in black dress pants, and a white, lacy shirt that a princess would kill for…or at least…would have killed for had it not been for the dark coffee stain that was already beginning to dry.

"Uh…sorry. I guess I didn't see you," was Neil's pathetic apology, as the woman flicked her hands, trying to shake off the little driblets of coffee that was sticking to her skin,

"Gee, I'm really sorry about that, ma'am. I was going much faster than I should have been. It's completely my fault," came his attempt at a better apology.

"No…I mean yes, it's your fault…mostly…but I wasn't really watching when I opened the door," she stammered, not really sure of how to continue. "Are you okay? Can I help you?"

"Thank you for your concern, but you're the one with the smoldering coffee all over you. Do you need a napkin," he offered, fumbling around in the numerous pockets that adorned his outfit.

"Uh…sure…if you have one, I'll use it, thank you." The initial shock of the accident was wearing off, and leaving a thick residue of embarrassment lingering on Sophie's cheeks. She fumbled with her purse, trying to look occupied as the man continued to dig for some sort of tissue.

"I…know I have one…somewhere…Ah! Here, I told you I had one," quickly, too quickly, Neil tore an old, battered and leathery paper towel from his jeans pocket, ripping the already small linen into an even smaller specimen. The both of them looked at the small, tattered and extremely poor excuse for a napkin, both of them wondering what to say next.

Sophie broke the silence first, "Uh, thank you for the offer but…well…this was an old shirt anyway. No really…it's nearly an antique," she quickly offered when she saw the strange man look sheepishly at the ugly blemish on the otherwise perfect dress shirt. "Uh….I really should get going."

"Well, wait a moment…the least I can do is buy you another drink," chimed Neil, all of a sudden not really in a very big hurry.

"Uh, no…no that's all right. I've got enough caffeine in me right now to float a boat anyway. I don't need anymore.

"Are you sure, because they don't cost much."

"Yeah, but thanks anyway," Sophie turned and began walking back down the stairwell. "I really have to be getting back."

Neil watched her for a couple of seconds, then followed, shrugging his shoulders, "If you insist. Where you going anyway?"

Sophie supposed the man was just attempting to make conversation, she hoped that's all it was. Cautiously, she answered, "The ER wing."

"Oh my…someone you knew is in the ER?"

His tone of voice sounded genuine, not faked, not forced. "Yes, my daughter," deciding to open up a bit more.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry ma'am!"

"Sophie," she corrected, feeling a bit odd with being called ma'am. She had always felt that "ma'am's" were for older ladies, people who deserved more respect.

"Sophie? Your name? That's a beautiful name," he commented when she nodded.

"I was named after my mother. So, what shall I call you?"

"I'm Neil Gordon, pleased to meet you," he offered his hand, something Sophie noted, was quite chivalrous.

"Pleased to meet you," Sophie accepted the offered hand, and continued on her way. When she had reached her level, she opened the door and stepped through, waving a goodbye to Neil.

"Oh, I'm coming to," he reached out his hand, supporting the heavy metal door and taking the weight off of Sophie's shoulder.

Sophie eyed him with suspicion, "You're not stalking me, are you?" she asked slowly.

Neil laughed at her joke, but stopped when he realized that she was serious. "Uh…no ma'…I mean, Sophie. You see, I was headed out of here when we…collided up there, and I'm just looking for a way out." He fumbled with his collar, uncomfortable with the direction their conversation had turned.

"Oh…all right," Sophie continued through the door, not looking back at the bewildered man behind her.

Neil allowed her to get several paces ahead before stepping through the door himself; he didn't want to spook her again. He followed down the hall, keeping a respectful distance, all the while looking for an exit sign._ They don't exactly have anything marked, now do they?_

Just as he was about to give up his own search, and instead hunt down a nurse or someone else to show him the way out, he spotted a bright red neon sign flashing the word "EXIT" in big, bold letters. Relieved, Neil quickened his pace, wanting nothing more than to just leave these white walls.

A panicked scream pierced the corridor, resounding through the entire ER ward. Shocked, Neil turned in the direction of the sound, seeing the woman, Sophie, running down the hall, apparently heading in the same direction. He stood for several moments, letting the scene sink in and wandering what else had gone wrong.

"LIBBY? I'M COMING LIBBY!" the woman cried, almost as panicked as the original scream had been.

All thoughts of not making the woman nervous vanished as Neil took up the chase. Yes, he had just met this woman, but there was something about her that enticed him to follow; as if he was being drawn to her. His long legs carried him far fast, but he was still no match for the frantic mother yards ahead of him.

He saw her round a corner into a room, and seconds later when he had reached it, he too entered the emergency room. Neil didn't know what he had expected to see upon entering the room, but the sight that greeted him was far stranger than what he would have ever imagined.

…

Well, that's the end of ch. 5. Ch. 6 will get **really** interesting because it will be describing Libby's dreams, her visions of Freddy and the like.

Hope you enjoyed and see ya later!


	6. It Begins

Thank you all for being patient with me on the updating situation. I've had a lot on my plate with getting ready for college: going to orientations, getting books and everything else. To all younger teens out there, get as much financial aid as possible. Fill out as many scholarship applications as possible; even if you think you won't win, FILL IT OUT ANYWAY! I won three scholarships, two of which I was absolutely positive I wouldn't win. But I did! Anyway, I'm saying this because, and listen to this, COLLEGE IS EXPENSIVE! Even with the three scholarships, it's really hard on the budget.

Also…not too important, but if you haven't noticed already, I sometimes put updates about what is going on in my profile. So…if it's been nearly a month since my last update and you're wondering what in the world is going on…check there. I might have written something to let you know. You don't have to check everyday though! It's not like a diary or anything, just every once in a while I will put an update in there.

Okay…I'm off my soap box.

**Too Young**

**Chapter 6: It Begins**

"Hey miss, you okay?"

The voice had been sharp, a harsh, grating insult to her ears. Everything was loud; everything was hard. Every sight that she took in burned her tired eyes and every sound thundered inside her head.

"Yeah…I think…I'm okay."

"Do you have a history of seizers, honey?"

The sound of the woman's voice didn't hurt as much as the man's did, but it was only slightly less painful. "What? Uh…no…no I'm just fine thank you. I think I'm just going to go home an…,"

The world went black.

…

Voices.

She heard them all around her; whispers of nameless children. The voices echoed and seemed to fade in and out, as if they were reaching her from a great distance away. She couldn't tell exactly how many there were, or what the voices were trying to convey to her. One thing she was sure of though; the voices radiated fear.

Libby opened her eyes, and still saw nothing. Blackness filled whatever void she currently resided in. She opened her mouth to call out, but her voice crooked in protest. A hot, oily taste crept up the back of her throat, making her gag and spit. The voices increased in volume, swarming around her like phantoms.

"Hello?' she managed in a strained squeak. The moaning voices accelerated in unison, growing more urgent with their strange cries. Libby gathered her courage, "Hello? Who is that?" she called, though failing to match the intensity of the otherworldly calls. The voices answered by growing even louder still, vibrating through her ribcage and sending monstrous bass-like jolts through her body.

The cries, a combination of male and female voices, increased several octaves, creating an ear-splitting screech. Franticly, Libby covered her ears, and attempted to cradle her head in-between her bent arms. The noise, despite her attempts to block it out, penetrated right through her hands, violating her ears and causing her head to throb. The sound was assaulting; the pain blinding.

Libby felt her body falling, crumpling to the ground. Instinct told her muscles to curl into the fetal position, a primitive form designed to protect the body. She felt the voices traveling through her, forcing their way into her soul, as if seeking an answer to a question Libby didn't understand. The entities traveled in and out of her pain-filled body, ravaging her, completely disregarding any thoughts for her well-being.

She writhed, trying to roll away from the intrusive beings. The voices stayed with her, following her movement and continuing the unforgiving attack. _What is this? Why is this happening to me!_ Deciding to try one last time to gain the voices attention, Libby sucked in air and tensing her diaphragm, shouted in to the black nothingness, "STOP IT! PLEASE STOP!"

The voices answered, moaning in hysteria and screeching in defiance. "WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?" The voices were unforgiving; they overwhelmed her, suffocating her with their desperate cries. "Who are you?" it was barely a whisper, for she was beaten.

A light, shimmering and white in color, appeared directly in front of her eyes. It was small, a tiny ball of light that hovered in mid-air, dancing to music that only it could hear. She followed the light with her eyes, watching warily as it began to grow, developing itself into a ruff imitation of a human-being.

Libby felt an unusual sensation gripping her. Amongst the horrifying, pain-filled screams of nameless children, this light…this being of white, spread a sense of hope and comfort through her fear ridden body. She watched in silent amazement as the being reached out a shimmering limb, an arm, and spread its fingers, inviting Libby to take hold of the hand.

Staring at the outstretched, Libby knew what to do. She had no explanation to how she knew it, but as if instinctual, Libby reached out her own hand, and locked grips with the white entity. Once she had made contact with the light, a warm, prickling sensation flowed into her palm, crawled up her arm and spread throughout her body. It was physically painless and seemed to awaken a feeling within her…a feeling of having a separate being in her body.

The white light spread up her body and filled her vision, blinding her to the thick blackness that consumed stanch air. Streaks of color spread through the light, thrusting her through a beautiful, but also unsettling vortex. The voices screamed after Libby as she was blasted out of the torturous room, calling to her to return…to help them.

Quite suddenly, the voices were cut off as Libby was thrown out of the strange whirlpool. She found herself standing in the middle of a dense forest. Trees and brush surrounded her in thick, nearly impenetrable lines, fencing her off from the outside world. Wind blew softly through branches, causing the leaves to rustle as they whipped like flags in the wind. Birds chattered high in the tree tops, singing songs that only they knew. She heard insects chirping nearby, the locusts and crickets trying desperately to attract a mate. _Okay…where the hell am I?_

The distinct sound of water flowing over rocks alerted her that she was nearby some creek or stream, something that both comforted and alerted her at the same time. Being next to water meant that she would have something to drink if necessary, but that also meant that _other_ things knew they could get a drink as well, things such as coyotes and raccoons, both of whom could get very violent if they felt they were backed into a corner.

The water issue aside, Libby felt very at ease in these surroundings, quite a different feeling than she had in the loud darkness. This quiet, bright atmosphere deeply reminded her of her home, the home she and her mother had just moved away from; the small horse farm where she had lived her entire life. It had been nestled beside a dense forest, much like this one, and she had countless memories of playing in it with her best friend…

Libby shook her head, trying in vain to erase the memories that were flooding into her brain. _She isn't with me anymore. _She choked down the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm her and instead of lingering on the past, set her mind to figuring out just where she was.

Cautiously, she began to inch her way forward, keeping a wary eye on the ground. She was in a strange forest, crossing strange terrain; she couldn't afford to fall in a hole or trip on a rock and hurt herself. _Plus, I have to keep an eye out for snakes._ She reached the trees and choosing a less hinder some path, continued through the wall-like tree line. Though she was well-experienced in the woods, Libby did, on occasion, loose her footing and soon had to reach out to the trees for support, being careful to not touch any poison oak or the like.

The distinct snap of a stick startled her, causing Libby to whip around and scan the forest bed behind her, "Hello?" Besides the common nature sounds, the forest was silent, undisturbed by any other intruder besides her. Airing on the side of caution, Libby backed herself flat up onto a tree, keeping a watchful eye on her surroundings. She stood, statue-like, waiting for any signs that she wasn't alone.

Minuets passed, and still, Libby neither saw nor heard anything that would be uncanny in the woods. Deciding that everything was fine, she removed herself from the side of the tree, and turned back the way she had been heading.

Libby froze, her foot hovering above the ground. She stood perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe in the wake of what stood only feet from her. Libby's woods sense was no match for what defiantly stared her down, gazing at her with intense gold eyes. Her eyes traced it's huge, hard body, muscles tense under a healthy coat of glistening snow-white fur. Paws larger than what she could have ever imagined gracing any animal under the sun ground themselves into the muddy terrain with long, deadly claws. The animals jaw hung open, exposing the long, white teeth that were sharper than most kitchen knives.

"Oh…shit"

Libby watched as the enormous white wolf eyed her without fear. Instinct commanded her to run away, to run for her life, but hundreds of books and nature movies begged with her to stand still; to stand her ground. Through her knowledge of animals, Libby knew that nine times out of ten, if one ran away from a predator, that predator would be inclined to give chase. Hell, she'd tried it with her dogs numerous times, and sure enough, they had given chase_. Of course, I knew my dogs wouldn't try to rip my throat out when they caught me,_ she mulled bitterly.

From deep within its body, the wolf emanated a growl, warning Libby of its proud stature. Realizing she needed to back off, Libby began to ever so slowly, inch her way backwards. She watched the wolf closely, but refused to look it in the eyes; she didn't want the wolf to think she was challenging it.

_This is going to work!_ She had backed over 20 feet from the defensive wolf and it had shown no further signs of aggression towards her. Getting braver, Libby increased her speed, wishing to get away as fast as possible. The wolf, not liking her sudden action, bristled and curled its lips over its upper teeth. Libby again froze, praying that she hadn't just made a fatal mistake. The wolf growled again, sending the rumble out across the forest's land from deep within its belly. Libby watched as the wolf's tail puffed and raised, a sign of aggression and dominance. The both of them stood like this for several minutes, neither one of them making a move.

Without warning, the wolf lunged, heading directly toward Libby at a breathtaking speed. Survival kicked in and Libby turned tail, running in the opposite direction as fast as she could, all the while knowing that in reality, there was no way she could out run the wolf. She commanded her long legs to carry her faster than she had ever attempted to run before, praying that she could somehow keep ahead of the wild beast behind her. Years of blindingly running through the rocky creeks and root-covered woods floors of her homestead served her well now, allowing her to fly over the terrain by twisting and turning around the numerous limbs and trees that loomed in her path. Her ankles, having been trained from a very young age to bend at odd angles, once again did as she ordered and bent like rubber at angles that would've broken the bones of a common, city-raised person as she ran over loose rocks and the round, circular branches.

Despite her quick, deer-like movements, she was barely able to detect the wolf's heavy breathing right behind her. Libby didn't dare steal a peak at the beast following her; her frayed nerves couldn't afford the shock. She thought she could discern hot, sticky breath penetrating the worn jeans covering her legs, a sure sign that the wolf was right on top of her; but it could just have been her imagination. The mind congers up many things when faced with a life or death situation.

Pain exploded through her left ankle and zigzagged its way up her calf. Though the rest of her body was still racing forward, the hole her left foot had fallen into acted like cement, encasing her leg and preventing her from traveling any further. Libby plummeted forward, intuition causing her to raise her arms to help break the fall. As her palms impacted the muddy earth, she felt tiny bits of rocks and twigs scrape her flesh, biting their way into her skin.

She felt air rush past her as she heard something land in front of her. Raising her eyes, Libby directed her attention to whatever was now in her path. She gasped as her eyes took in the sight of the wolf turning on its haunches, staring her down as it again faced her. Realizing that the wolf had launched itself into the air to pounce on her just as she had fallen, Libby felt relief spread through her tired body; relief that just by pot luck, she was alive.

The wolf, eyes aflame with anger, snarled at its prey. Libby had no idea if her ankle was broken, but she didn't like the idea of chancing her weight on it. Adrenaline eased the pain, but also clouded her mind. She was powerless to do anything to save her life as the wolf gathered its taunt muscles and sprang towards her. Closing her eyes, Libby was vaguely aware of her arms rising, a pathetic attempt to shield off the eminent attack one of natures best predators.

_Just let it be quick, _she prayed.

"You okay there, little miss?"

_Huh?_ Libby opened her eyes, and was immediately forced to squint, shielding her sensitive eyes to the blinding light. _Am I already dead? Jeez, that was fast._

"Miss? Can you hear me?"

_If I'm dead, then why is someone bothering me?_ Carefully this time, Libby cautiously peaked open her eyes, scanning her surroundings.

"What…" Gone were the countless oaks, maples, pines and cedars that had loomed over her just seconds ago; gone were the troublesome weeds and thorn bushes that had plagued her flight, and gone were the soothing, relaxing sounds that only Mother Nature could provide.

What had replaced these things, however, was a complete opposite from where she had previously been, and was the third time she had found herself in unfamiliar territory in what seemed like just minutes apart. Old, chipped and sun-baked pavement substituted for the mud and dirt she had been sprawled on before. Tall, aged buildings that had seen better days, stood in place of the ancient, intimidating trees, casting oblong shaped shadows.

"Excuse me young lady, you okay?"

Finally shifting her gaze to the direction of the voice, Libby felt her stress-bunched shoulders relax as her eyes took in the shape of a man dressed in a cop's uniform. He appeared to be in his early-to-mid forties, but still had a healthy head of rich, brown hair, cropped short in the traditional policemen style. The cop wasn't overly tall, but his kind, gentle smile and chocolate brown eyes gave her a rare sense of safety.

She watched as the cop extended his hand, offering to help her up from the hot sidewalk, where she sat in a heap. Without hesitation, Libby took his hand, allowing him to pull her up into a wobbly standing position. Her ankle, the one which had slipped into that "hole" now felt fine, completely empty of pain or stiffness, as if it had never happened.

"Well…that's more like it. Must admit, you had me worried there for a minute," came his pleasant, deep voice. Although he kept his tone lighthearted, Libby thought she could detect a small hint of a deeper torment, as if he had suffered more in his life than anybody ever should.

_I need to figure out what's happening, _she thought frantically. "Wh…Where am I?" Libby looked deeply into the police officer's eyes and felt, sensed really, that she could trust this man to lend her the help she needed.

The cop raised his eyebrows and scrutinized her, something that Libby didn't overly like, "You sure you're okay?"

"I…I don't know," Libby diverted her gaze to get a better look at the surrounding town. "This isn't where I was…before," she breathed, taking in the intricate colonial stonework and the aged, faded brickwork adorning the sides and faces of homes and buildings. Further down the streets, Libby spied numerous town citizens dotting the landscape, casually walking their dogs or playing Frisbee with their children. A couple of pairs of young lovers walking hand-in-hand were quietly laughing, whispering into each others ears. "This isn't right; this isn't where I just was."

"Don't you remember, miss?" he ventured, choosing his words carefully. "You've been here all along. You were walking here, along the sidewalk, when you just collapsed. I saw you from across the street and headed over."

"Was I?" the cop nodded, his trained eyes looking for any evidence of illegal activity. "No…no I was just in a forest…and…" Libby was growing impatient, and nervously began to run her hands through her shining golden hair.

The police officer scanned the girl up and down, taking note of her anxious behavior, "And…what?"

Libby hesitated, knowing full well that she sounded crazy. _Maybe I am crazy_. It wasn't a pleasant thought. "And there was a wolf." _There, I said it._

The cops eyes widened, confirming what Libby thought he would suspect. "A…wolf."_ Yeah, here we go_. The policeman ran a hand through his short hair and then crossed his arms, examining her.

"Uh…miss…"

"Libby," she cut in, not wanting to hear the faked formality word again.

"Libby…there hasn't been a wolf in these parts for…well…nearly a hundred years. Maybe more."

Libby's lips formed a tight line, her eyes pleading with him to believe her. _Fat chance._ She watched anxiously as he sighed, seeming to exhale all forms of stress he was holding inside. Finally, he nodded his head, "All right, fine. A wolf. So where was it?"

She too, exhaled a sigh of relief. _Goal one_. "Well, like I said, I was in a forest a minute ago," she looked around, trying to spy the woods she had just been in.

"Well, Springwood is surrounded by forest. Can you tell me which direction yo…"

"Wait, did you say we were in Springwood? Springwood, Ohio?" She gawked at the town around her. _It is Springwood…just different._ Similarities still existed, but the town she had only just now recognized as Springwood, was slightly different than what she had grown slightly familiar with the last week or so. The place seemed…older…but yet…younger. She couldn't explain it.

"Yes, we're in Springwood, Ohio. Didn't you know that?"

"Uh…it looks…different."

"Well, I don't know why. It's looked this way all my life."

_Has it?_ "Who are you?" _Maybe a name will spark some memory._

"Oh…I'm sorry. Lt. Donald Thompson, Springwood PD," once again, he offered her his hand, but this time in mutual friendship.

"Liberty Morgan…Libby," she accepted his hand, noting that Lt. Thompson scrunched his eyebrows, as in deep thought. "What is it?"

"Aw, nothing. It's just…Morgan…the name seems familiar."

"It shouldn't. My mother and I just moved down here about a week ago from Pine Bluff. We've never been here before."

Thompson still looked uncertain, but taking her word for it, shrugged his shoulders, "How about I take you back to the station. There we can call your mother and have her pick you up; I don't like the idea of you walking off by yourself."

_Meaning you still think I'm fruity,_ she thought with distain, but she kept quiet.

"Uh, thank you. How far is it?"

"Not far at all, in fact, it's right around that corner," he pointed to the nearest street corner and began walking, expecting her to follow. After a couple of seconds, and after quickly flipping through her options, Libby trotted to catch up to the receding cop.

They reached the Springwood Police Station without any more hindrance, much to Libby's relief. She walked through the heavy glass doors while Thompson held them open for her, and then followed him down a hall and into a wide room. People were sitting in chairs and reading pamphlets and such, waiting for the next available cop to lend them help for whatever they needed. Thompson weaved her through several rows of desks and police work stations before finally reaching a separate room.

"So…does your mother have a name or a phone number I can look up?"

"Uh…her name's Sophie Morgan, but…" Libby hung her head in shame, "I don't remember my phone number. Sorry."

"Oh no, don't worry about that. It takes a while for one to re-learn these things, when one moves and all. Your mother's name should be good enough. This is my office, so no one should bother you here. Please, make yourself comfortable."

Thompson motioned for her to take a seat before he left the room to converse with another officer. Seeing a rather plush, almost overstuffed beige comfort chair, Libby headed over and gladly welcomed the cushy support if offered her tired muscles. She closed her eyes, _Okay…what is going on?_

"Hey! Hey girl! What you doing here?"

Startled, Libby franticly searched the room for the source of the voice, finally eyeing it in the far corner of the room. A boy, older than her and of what appeared to be Hispanic descent, leaned against the wall while playing with an intricate switch-blade he held in his right hand. He wore old and torn jeans with a black leather jacket, a rather ornate accessory. His hair, jet black in color, was slightly bushy and curled over his forehead, accenting his sharp, dark eyes.

He smiled wickedly, causing the old fear to well up in her throat, "Hey, I asked you a question girl." The blade flicked menacingly.

Forcing herself to swallow the bitter fear, Libby timidly answered, "I…uh…was led here." She rubbed her hands over her knees, attempting to rub the sweat off which had accumulated on her palms.

"Oh yeah…by who?"

Libby hesitated for a moment, but just a moment, "Lt. Thompson."

The boy, the older teenager, spit a slew of curses, curses that would have curled the hair of a rank stable boy. "That son-of-a-bitch! That rat thinks he owns this town with his shiny badge and big gun," he continued once the irate cussing was over with. He flicked his blade once more, examining the newly sharpened edges, "Someone needs to teach him a lesson!"

"Oh, and I bet that'd be you, huh?"

Both Libby and the boy snapped their heads their right, taking in the sight of a girl clad from head-to-toe in black leather. Metal studs adorned her outfit and choker, giving the costume even more of a punkish demeanor. Around her neck, dangling below the skin-tight choker, hung an elaborate display of diamond-like stones, glistening in the light of the office. But what grabbed Libby's attention the most however, was the fact that this new girl's hair was spiked straight up, creating a very high and intimidating mohawk.

She gaped, open-mouthed at the newcomer. _Who are these people? How did they get past the security and in here?_

Grinding his teeth, the boy threatened, "Taryn, back the hell off…I found her first."

"And like it _matters_," Taryn spat back, "Remember, we're all on the same team here, Rod."

The boy, Rod, scratched his brow, showing Taryn a particular finger.

Taryn snorted, "Yourself."

"Enough you two!"

Libby jumped up from her seat as her third visitor, another boy, appeared right next to her seat.

"Whoa there honey, no means for alarm," he ran his hand through his dark, nearly black hair, causing the navy blue and black-striped overcoat to flap. "We're your friends," he defended while touching his burgundy and white undershirts. "Friends don't hurt each other."

"Oh blow it Rick," Rod shot, allowing his blade another flick in Rick's direction.

"Geesh, tense aren't ya?" countered Rick, rolling his eyes. "Pent up hormones," he whispered in Libby's ear.

"YOU ASS…"

"PLEASE! STOP IT!"

All three of the mysterious visitors turned in Libby's direction, staring at her as if she were crazy. _What? Did I just grow another head?_ "Look, all I want to know is who you are, and how you got here?"

Taryn was the one who broke the ice, sort of, "Oh, great. Don't tell me she doesn't know yet?"

"That's how it appears," Rod growled, still staring daggers in Rick's direction.

"I don't understand," pleaded Libby, "know what?"

"Where is everyone?" Rick asked, turning in a tight circle. "What? They don't expect us to do it by ourselves, do they?"

"Who?" Libby breathed.

"Don't tell me you're afraid to go it alone, Johnson?" Rod sneered. "I thought you knew _ka-rot-tay."_

"Do what?"

"I wouldn't be talking if I were you Rod. If I had a _blade_ your size, I'd be shakin' in my boots," grinned Rick.

"What…"

"Will you two _boys _knock it off!" cut in Taryn, clenching her fists in frustration.

"HEY! What are you's talking about!" yelled Libby, finally reaching her breaking point.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!" The voice was booming, vibrating off the walls and thundering through their heads.

Turning, they all laid their eyes on Lt. Donald Thompson, fists clenched and eyes aflame in rage. His gaze darted from one intruder to the next, scanning their bodies as if assessing how much of a threat they posed.

Libby, afraid she had somehow betrayed the Lt.'s trust, attempted an explanation, "Sir, I…"

She never finished, for Taryn, who had moved next to her, clamped a hand over her shoulder. Diverting her gaze from Thompson to Taryn, Libby saw the warning in Taryn's eyes, "I wouldn't if I were you, sweetie."

"Why shouldn't she, Taryn? Please…let her explain?" the Lt. offered.

Libby stared at Thompson, noting with alarm that his voice was…strange. She couldn't quiet make it out, but the Lt.'s tone was somehow…otherworldly. She felt a shiver run from the bottom of her spine up into her neck, causing goose-bumps to appear over her fine skin. "How did you know her name?"

Rod leaned in close, allowing Libby to feel the tickle of his breath on her neck, "Get ready kid."

"For what," she questioned, throwing a hesitant look in his direction.

"For the fight of your life," Rick finished.

Libby watched, horrified as a malicious smile spread across the cops face. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, eyes burning holes into the four teens. When he spoke, ice coated every object within the room, "Do you really think you have a chance of beating me?"

"We know what is right, and we're willing to fight for it," Taryn declared, as she maneuvered herself directly in front of Libby, shielding the younger girl from the poisonous glare of the Lt. Without being told, both Rod and Rick fell in beside Taryn, forming a line of defense. They stood at attention, hands at the ready beside their hips.

"I beat you in life," Thompson sneered, "I can beat you in death. Remember children, this is _my_ world."

Libby watched, frayed nerves unraveling even more as Taryn, Whipping her hands behind her back, withdrew two switchblades, holding them menacingly out towards Thompson, "We'll see about that."

Hearing a third switchblade flip into action, Libby could only assume that Rod had followed Taryn's lead and joined in on the threat. Her eyes jerked nervously between the set of the three turned backs, seeing nothing but tension woven into their ridged muscles.

"What in hell are you going to do?"

Not one of them answered.

"Are you crazy!" she squeaked, her voice high with tension, "He's a cop!"

"No," came Rick's voice, low and heavy with worry, "he's not."

In a flash of shiny black leather and glistening silver studs, Libby watched as Taryn pulled her arm back and yanked it forward again, propelling one of her blades straight at Thompson's throat. Twisting under Taryn's arm, Libby strained to get a better view. _My God…their going to kill a cop!_

The knife, as if in slow motion, soared through the air, turning end on end in a mid-air spiral. To Libby's horror, Lt. Thompson stood stalk still, not flinching as the knife inched its way closer to his windpipe. The realization that the Lt. was actually going to let himself get impaled, poured into her shaken mind.

The knife stopped. At first, Libby thought it had indeed imbedded itself into his flesh. But the lack of blood convinced her otherwise. She squinted, desperately trying to see across the room.

"Oh…my God," she breathed as her eyes widened in revolution. The blade, sharp and deadly, hovered inches from the Lt.'s skin, stopped in mid-air. The knife was still, as if it had instead stuck itself in some invisible barrier shielding the cop from harm.

Libby felt herself backing up, instinctively retreating from otherworldly sight. _How is this happening? _Her eyes, not being able to be convinced to look away from the impossible scene, glimpsed the Lt.'s smile grow wider as he reached up a hand and grabbed the hilt of the blade. He picked it up from nothing.

"You shouldn't have done that, Taryn," he mocked, twilling the knife. Without ceremony, he flung the knife back, hitting Taryn in the eye.

Libby screamed. Blood gushed everywhere, spilling from popped orb that used to be Taryn's right eye. Limp and lifeless, Taryn fell forward, collapsing in a heap in front of the frightened girl. Libby glued herself to the back wall, staring in shock at Taryn's body.

"YOU BASTARD!" Rod leapt forward, jerking his blade out and running towards Thompson, intending to cut the cops heart out. He never made it.

Thompson waited, patiently biding his time until Rod was in range, then slammed his arm into the vulnerable area of Rod's abdomen, sending jolts of pain riveting through his gut. Rod stumbled, gasping for breath as his stomach clinched shut. Placing his hands on either side of Rod's head, the Lt. snapped the boys head sharply to the left. A loud crack filled the air of the room as Rod's neck broke.

Rick turned towards Libby, "Get out of here!" His eyes met hers, seeing that she was paralyzed with fear. "Go now!" He only hoped his words would reach her, but for the moment, he had to deal with the rouge _cop_.

Channeling his chi, Rick started forward, cautiously evaluating his target. Thompson's eyes followed every movement Rick made, not allowing him an opportunity. Rick stopped advancing, only feet from the cop. Closing his eyes, Rick allowed the chi to flow into his limbs, giving it time to give him the power he needed. Thrusting his arms forward, Rick stretched his arms in the traditional preparation method.

The cop waited, his patience wearing thin as his opponent prepared himself before him. Thompson rolled his eyes, "Enough," he snapped, drawling his pistol from the leather holster strapped to his side. He pulled the trigger, sending a bullet plummeting into Rick's heart.

Rick teetered, eyes going blank as he stared, bewildered at the Lt. He fell, lifeless just like his two companions before him.

"Now, where were we?" Thompson question calmly, holstering his pistol and looking in Libby's direction. His eyes took in the sight of the terrified girl, shaking in uncontrollable fear. "Oh, yes…of course."

Trembling, Libby saw the cop move forward, heading straight for her as he carelessly stepped over the lifeless forms of Rod, Taryn and Rick. She looked into his eyes, seeing…nothing. It was as if he too was dead, for his eyes registered nothing; not anger or rage, not ruthlessness or madness, but were instead two lifeless orbs.

She shivered, staring into the nothingness that was his eyes. "Stay away from me," she quivered, sinking into herself and looking as small as possible. "Who are you! What have you done!"

"Libby, right?" he asked, though she sensed he didn't intend on her answering. "You have no idea who or what I am, do you? Well…that's alright, for you will…soon enough." He stopped his approach and raised his right hand, holding it out in front of him so she could get a good look. "I believe we'll have a great time together, darling."

As Libby watched, she witnessed Thompson's hand beginning to change. His finger nails began to grow, slowly at first, but then more rapidly. Blood oozed from his finger tips and flowed freely down the lengthening nails, which had begun to change to a shiny, metallic color. The skin around his upper hand and palm, as well as his wrist, hardened and browned, as if it were leather. In mere seconds, the metamorphosis was complete, and the once normal, kind small town cop, stood before her with a bloody, and demonic clawed like glove.

He grinned, stepping forward and clinking the metal knives together in an attempt to intimidate her. It was working.

Survival kicked in at the last moment and Libby heaved herself from the floor, dashing to her right. All she knew was that she had to escape any way she could. Seeing a door down along the wall, she sprinted towards it, all too aware of the knives slashing the air inches behind her retreating back. She reached the doorknob, turned it, and threw the door open, adrenalin pumping through her ears.

Air rushed past her face as the door flew by; air filled with the smells of the wild; wet and earthy. Forcing her eyes into focus, she was met with the sight of a forest, a forest exactly like the one she had just left before. There, standing just inches from her, a white wolf growled, staring her down, challenging her.

She screamed, flinging herself backwards away from the wild animal. She didn't care how it had gotten here; she only thought about how to escape it again. Seeing the door that led from Thompson's office to the rest of the police station, she lunged for it.

An obstacle blocked her path, an obstacle made of flesh and clothing; the clothing of a cop. Libby tried to stop, but she was moving too fast. At a breakneck speed, she collided with Donald Thompson, feeling him wrap his arms around her, trapping her like an animal. She struggled, twisting and jerking herself back and forth in an attempt to break his hold on her, but he was too strong; his grip was iron.

"LET GO OF ME! LET ME GO!"

Not responding to her screams, Thompson threw Libby to the ground, grinning in satisfaction as she whimpered in pain as her shoulder smashed into the solid floor. She tried to get up, feebishly attempting to gather her feet under her and stand. Pain exploded in her chest as he rammed his foot into her, pinning her to the ground.

Shifting most of his weight to the leg that wasn't holding her down, Thompson lowered himself down to her, ignoring her attempts to shove his foot off of her. He raised his bladed hand, bringing it up to her face, allowing her to imagination to run wild.

_This is it. I'm dead._ Her eyes followed the blade ends as they lowered to her forehead. With more force than she could ever have imagined, he thrust his blades into her head, shoving them deep within her mind.

Her body was on fire; every inch blistered and peeled with heat, with invisible flame. A white light, filled with the spirits of hundreds of souls, clouded her vision, before turning into a fiery red, melting her eyes into liquid.

A voice, raspy and rough, filled her head, laughing at her overwhelming pain. It was then that she felt it; a sense that she wasn't alone, wasn't alone in her body. A force, black and chalky with evil, flowed through her veins, infecting her. She tried to fight, but the force was too powerful, too strong and too suffocating.

Throwing her head back, she screamed, but it wasn't her voice that filled her ears.

…

"George, is she okay? What's wrong?

Swallowing, George tried once again to feel the girl's pulse. He searched for several seconds, before finally giving up. _Shit!_ Turning slowly towards his wife, he uttered the words he dreaded saying, "Bettie…she's dead."

The cool, night air filled with an ominous scream. George reeled back, horrified at the devilish sound.

Trees shook, water in nearby ponds and pools iced over, and birds fell dead from the sky. The world trembled as Freddy Krueger vented rage and pain.

…

End. Well not really of course. Several more chaps. coming. Hope you all enjoyed and I'll be working on ch. 7 in-between classes in college! YIPEEE! (But only if I don't have college stuff to do. School work is important!) Don't worry, I wont forget my readers!


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